
Class ____ES352L 

Book ^-SMb, 

Copyright }]° 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 



THE WINTERFEAST 




HERDISA 



•THE 
WINTERFEAST 



BY 
CHARLES RANN KENNEDY 

AUTHOR OF 
"THE SERVANT IN THE HOUSE" 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM 
SCENES IN THE PLAY 




HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

MCMVI I I 



THE PLAV PUBLISHED IN THIS VOLUME IS 
COPYRIGHTED AS A DRAMATIC COMPOSITION. 
STAGE AND PLATFORM RIGHTS RESERVED 



LIBRARY Of CONGRESS 

Two Cc-Dies Kccelved 

DEC 10 t90d 



s 9^ '^^c. No, 

COr^Y b. 



CLASS. 






Copyright, 1908, by Charles Rann Kennedy. 

^U rishls rtserveif. 

Published December, 1908. 



TO 
MY WIFE 

"here have we spoken but a little while 

TOGETHER. AND YET MINE HEART HATH DREAMED 
UPON THEE ALWAYS. . . . THERE WAS A HAUNTING 
OF THEE ERE EVER I SAW THY FACE. ... I HAVE 
KNOWN THEE OTHER WORLDS THAN THIS.' 



CONTENTS 

The First Act 
The Guest 

The Second Act 
The Bread of Sinfiotli's Baking 

The Third Act 
The Drink of the Raven 

The Fourth Act 
The Draining of the Lees 

The Fifth Act 
The Fragments 

For stage purposes, the only intervals will be between 
the first and second acts, and between the third and 
fourth. The curtain does not even descend between Acts 
II. and III., as will be seen. 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



HERDISA Frontispiece 

"betwixt us there lies a great peace!" .Facingp.^% 

"is all well with thee, BJORN 



asmundsson ?" 

' heart's love to thee, and faith till death '' 
'unloved!" 

' BJORN OR VALBRAND, which ?" .... 

'for thy love's sake only" 



to help thee, friend, in thy most bitter 
need" 



50 

68 

86 

100 

126 

140 



The frontispiece is from a portrait photograph made 
by Miss Alice Boughton, and the illustrations 
are from photographs made by Mr. Charles Hallen 



ORIGINAL CAST OF CHARACTERS 

IN 

THE WINTERFEAST 

BY 

CHARLES RANN KENNEDY 

AS PRESENTKD BY 

THE HENRY MILLER ASSOCIATE PLAYERS 

AT 

THE SAVOY THEATRE, NEW YORK 

ON MONDAY, NOVEMBER 30, I908 
PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

THORKEL, an old Viking. . Mr. Robert Cummings 

VALBRAND, his son Mr. Frank Mills 

BJORN, Thorkel's foster son 



f.j .,, r>. I Mr. Walter Hampden 

fJLAt, son to Djorn 

UFEIG, a priest Mr. Arthur Lewis 

ODD, a thrall Mr. Ben Field 

HERDISA, wife to Vaibrand, 

Miss Edith Wynne Matthison 

SWANHILD, her daughter . Miss Gwladys Wynne 

7he time is hetiveen the hours of se'ven and ten on the e^vening of 
Winter Night's Feast, October I4(h, A.D. 1020. 

The place is Thorkelsstead, or the homestead of Thorkel, in Icefirth, 
Iceland. 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY 



Thorkel . 
Valbrand j^ 

"^^ BjORN j 

Olaf 
Ufeig 
Odd . 
Herdisa 
Swanhild 



Foster-brothers 



An old Viking 

His son 

His foster-son 

Son to Bjorn 

A priest 

A thrall 

Wife to Valbrand 

Her daughter 



For reasons indicated In the text, it is advisable for the 
actor playing Bjorn to double the part with his son Olaf. 
Seven actors only, therefore, are required. 

The time is between the hours of seven and ten, on the 
evening of Winter Night's Feast, October 14th, a.d. 1020. 

The place is Thorkelsstead, or the homestead of Thorkel, 
in Icefirth, Iceland. 

* Not to be confused with the historical Bjorn Herjulfson, 
who sailed to Vineland (America) in the year 986 a.d. 
The tale is imaginary. 



THE SCENE 

A substantial-looking wooden interior of the early eleventh 
century, Scandinavian. 

At the back of the stage, a little to left of centre, there 
is an opening, leading by v^^ay of a small porch to the outer 
door (which is seen). This door is fitted with a large 
latch, which makes a noise when lifted. To the right of 
the opening, three steps, extending as far as right flat, give 
access to the women's bower — a wide, high inner chamber 
curtained off from the main hall. There is a door in right 
flat, toward front of the stage, which is approached by 
three railed-in wooden steps, set sideways up stage, so 
that those who mount them may face the audience. There 
is a similar door in left flat, but quite up stage. This also 
is approached by steps. Below, on the same side, toward 
the audience, is a huge fireplace, from the upper end of 
which there juts out into the room a large, high-backed, 
carved ingle-seat so contrived that its occupants may not 
be seen from the upper part of the stage. 

On the right are preparations for the evening's festival. 
The table is set lengthwise up and down the stage. The 
place of honor is the high seat of the house, the pillars of 

[13] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



which are curiously carved with runes and quaint figures; 
this is set to right of the table, with its back to the flat. 
Three stools are also set — Herdisa's, at the upper end of 
the table; Swanhild's, at the lower; and Valbrand's, to the 
right of the high seat. At the commencement of the play 
the left of the table is free; but afterward it is occupied 
by the guest seat, an honorable-looking carved chair, first 
seen at back of stage, between the doorway opening and 
the bower. A small oak dresser is up stage behind the high 
seat. A small wooden footstool painted in blue and red 
is by the right of the ingle-seat. Another stool, the thrall's 
stool, occupies the other side of the fireplace, near the 
audience, close to the wall. 

Other appurtenances of the room include tapestries 
seven or eight feet high all round the walls, with con- 
ventional pattern, distinguished mainly by the swastika, or 
mark of Thor: battle-axes, bills, byrnies, helms, shields, 
swords; fishing-gear, such as nets, hooks, harpoons, spears; 
a couple of oars; trophies of the chase — reindeer antlers, 
fox-tails, skins of wolves and bears — one a fine Arctic bear- 
skin (white) across the hearth; a homespun cloak or two 
of wadmal, hanging up; a spinning-wheel; a quantity of 
dried meat and stock-fish depending from the roof-beams; 
a black stock-pot simmering above the fire; and a lamp 
swinging high over the feast-table. In the doorway there 
is a lantern. 

Of the essential properties of the play the following are 
seen when the curtain rises: A small Celtic hand-harp 

[h] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



standing on the ground near the audience, just in front of 
steps, right; knives, platters, drinking-cups, dishes, and a 
mead-bottle for the feast; an extra platter, etc., on the 
dresser; a cloak lying on Swanhild's stool; the lantern 
in the doorway, named above; Thorkel's hat and helm 
and sword, hanging by the high seat; and Valbrand's 
sword, the haft of which the thrall binds with hemp at the 
beginning of the play. 

Other essential properties, which are brought in, include 
Bjorn's sword, a sea-shell, an arm-ring, Valbrand's cloak, 
and Herdisa's cloak. 

All three swords mentioned are huge weapons, for the 
use of two hands; they are highly ornamented, and distinct 
from one another. 

The stage is lit by a red glow from the fire, an amber 
light from the lamp illuminating the feast-table and the 
curtains of the bower, and a sickly flicker in the doorway 
from the lantern. The inside of the bower is dark and 
mysterious. 



THE FIRST ACT 



The G u k s t 



THE WINTERFEAST 

THE FIRST ACT 

As the curtain rises there are discovered Thorkel, 
SwANHiLD, and the thrall, Odd. The girl sits on a foot- 
stool slightly to right of the old man, who is in the ingle- 
seat. Odd, on the farther side of the hearth, sits mend- 
ing a sword-haft. 

Thorkel. What is thy task, thrall ? 

Odd. I mend Valbrand's sword, Master Thorkel. 

Thorkel. So ? How brake he his sword .? 

Odd. Nay, the sword is good enow. I do but bind 
it with hemp round the haft — to hold by. 

Thorkel. Humph] 'Tis like Valbrand! In my 
day men were more fain to grip cold iron than hemp. 

SwANHiLD. My father is no coward, grandfather! 

Thorkel. I mock not thy father, child — Valbrand 
is mine own son; but he was ever more singer than 
swordsman — a dreamer of dreams, like thee, Swan- 
hild. Well, I love him none the less for that. 

[19] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. Nor me, grandfather ? 

Thorkel [patting her head]. Nor thee, little 
wench! But — I remember the days when men were 
men here in Iceland, ere the new faith came, and they 
fell away from Father Odin and old Thor. 

SwANHiLD [crossing herself at the heathen names]. 
Let not Priest Ufeig hear thee say as much; nay, 
nor God, either! 

[She gazes thoughtfully into the fire.] 

Thorkel. I fear not Ufeig. I am of the old days. 

SwANHiLD [still gazing]. Grandfather, how long 
hath my father left off singing songs ? Men say he 
was a great skald once. 

Thorkel. Why, these twenty years — thereabout; 
since he wedded Herdisa, thy mother. 

SwANHiLD. Whom dost thou blame for that .? 

Thorkel. I blame — none. Such things come 
about. 

Swanhild. Did not my mother like song-craft in 
the house .? 

Thorkel. Maybe she liked it well enow; but — 
well, she wedded him, and matters changed some- 
what. Sooth, there be greater need than skald-work 
in this world — strength, a fierce heart, and steadfast- 
ness among the folk ! Ay, she made a man of Val- 
brand — though he do use hemp with his sword-haft! 

[20] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. Didst thou ncver deal in songs, and 
fair tales, and such-like, in thy youth ? 

Thorkel [glancing keenly down upon her]. H'm! 
. . . Never but once — once only, in all my life — did 
the scald-foam hiss in my head; and that once was 
once too . . . Well, I waken that not. 'Tis dead and 
done with. 

Odd [busy with the sword]. So! When Valbrand 
next hath need of it! . . . 

[He eyes it proudly.] 

SwANHiLD [she has slipped from the stool and 
nov/ kneels up in the fire-glow]. Never will I be 
wedded as long as I live! I would not take the song 
out of a man's mouth for all the world! 

Thorkel [laughing]. Mayhap thou mayst light 
on some lad of thine own mettle — some idle John-a- 
dreams like thyself. 

SwANHiLD [radiant]. Oh, grandfather! Dost thou 
deem that ever such might come about ^. 

Odd [rising]. 'Tis done! Look, Master Thorkel. 
Is not that fair bound ? 

[The child sits dreaming as Odd 
holds the sword over her head.] 

Thorkel. Humph! Hemp! 

[As Odd hangs up the sword by 
the end of the ingle-seat the Warn- 

[21] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



ing is heard — a cry, half human, of 
wind and storm cleft by thunders. 
Smoke comes from the fire. Odd 
wheels round, scared.] 

Odd. There goes Thor's devil hammer, some- 
whither! 

SwANHiLD [crossing herself). Ssh, Odd! 

Thorkel. That was the Warning — what men call 
the Warning. The winter is not far off. 

Odd [standing rooted, his arms limp]. I heard a 
mad skald once say of the Warning, that if it fell on 
Winterfeast there was ill-luck a-brewing for some 
one. 

Thorkel. Humph! Skalds! Skalds! 

Odd. To-night — is — Winterfeast! 

Swanhild [thoughtfully]. Mother hath made grid- 
dle-cakes. 

Folk say that a maiden may light upon a lover, 
Winterfeast. He walks in dream, o' Winterfeast. 

Thorkel. They say much that be neither here 
nor there. 

Swanhild. Nay, but I know the rime on't. It 
runs thus: 



*' Dreaming yonder 
In thy bower, 
[22] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



One doth wander 
At the hour 
Of Winterfeast : 
Seek; and if thou find him, 
To thee, Fate shall bind him — 
As thou lookst for least." 

Odd. I have heard that, too. 

[SwANHiLD rises with a glad little 
cry, and skips to the middle of the 
room.] 
Thorkel. Whither away now, madcap .? 
SwANHiLD. To the bower, yonder! 
Thorkel. Nay, 'tis cold as death in there, 
child. 

SwANHiLD. What, shall I leave him ghosting there 
alone, without a welcome.'' See! [She snatches up 
a shawl on her left.] 'Tis mother's. 

Thorkel. Ay, that bower will be the bane of 
thee yet! 

[She dances gayly into the bower. 
Within, she peeps out with an odd 
little make-believe of fear, and dis- 
appears again. The others follow 
her movements, Thorkel edging 
round the ingle-seat to do so.] 
[ 23 ] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkki.. a mad little wench! 'Tis Valbrand 
over again! 

[Odd walks slowly to the fire. There 
he sinks to his knees.] 
Odd. The skald said that Fate rides upon the 
wings of the Warning. How dost thou deem of 
that, Master Thorkel ? 

Thorkel. Fate rides another blast than yon, 
meseems! 

Odd. And passes, likewise ? Naught left behind ? 
Thorkel. Nay, no man knows what chance leaf 
may blow his way upon the breath of Fate. 

[There is a single knock at the door. 
It echoes ominously through the 
room. Both remain silent. An- 
other knock.] 
Who is that knocks so like a thief at the door .'' 
Go see, boy. 

Odd [having started, pauses]. Shall 1 take weapon. 
Master ? There hath blown no horn. 
Thorkel. Do. Take Valbrand's. 

[Odd does so. As he nears the 
door, a third knock sounds. He 
halts, trembling.] 
Open, boy. 

[Odd opens the door. Ufeig comes 
[24] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



in. He is a wry old man, his face 
wrinkled with evil and age; his right 
arm hangs limp — it is withered; 
there is a red scar across his head, 
and he is a little bent. He is robed 
as a priest. Odd draws back, sword 
raised, facing him.] 
Odd [scared]. 'Tis old Ufeig — none but old Ufeig. 
Ufeig. Yea — and thy priest! 

[He points to the sword with his 
left hand, across his body.] 
Odd. Thou gavest no warning, father. 

[The sword-point clanks mechani- 
cally to the ground.] 
Ufeig. No warning, eh ? Oh-ho-ho! What was 
that erewhile ? Didst not hear it — the storm-blast 
coming up from over the sea, with tempest ? 

Odd [aghast]. Ay, Priest Ufeig, and didst thou 
raise yon .? [Under his breath.] Men say thou 
hast a devil, and canst cast spells! 
Ufeig. Ha! Then upon thee I . . . 

[Odd shivers beneath that awful 
left hand.] 
So! 'Tis well; thou learn a godly fear. 
Thorkel. If thou hast aught to say, speak to me. 
He is but a boy. 

[25] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. Ah, mine old warrior's voice! 

[He comes down to the corner of the 
ingle-seat.] 

Thou hast no fear of me, hast thou, Thorkel ? 

Thorkel. I trow not! What dost thou here? 

Ufeig. I have a httle errand with thee, Thorkel; 
yea, and a little gift, too — a Winterfeast gift; but 
that is not from me; 'tis from — another; ay. Mine 
own errand with thee will I deal with first. 

Thorkel. How if I will not hear thee ? 

Ufeig. Thou wilt hear me. Shall I sit, Thorkel ? 

Thorkel [hesitating]. I know thee not, with that 
shaven face of thine! 

Ufeig. Pough! There be one tuft left, Thorkel. 
Thy kinsfolk call me Priest Goat-face when they 
would mock me. 

Thorkel [derisively]. Ay, thou hadst more wag- 
ging at thy chin when thou wert priest of Thor! 

Ufeig [crossing himself complacently]. I am 
changed since. 

Thorkel. Thou didst name some — some gift . . . 

Ufeig. Nay, but mine own errand first. 

Thorkel [roughly]. Well, come to't, and quickly. 
I have no time for thee. 

Ufeig. I would talk of that old tale of thine which 
thou didst spin twenty years ago, Thorkel — that 

[26] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



day when thou wert come from Ftneland over the 
seas. 'Twas the only time in all thy life that thou 
wert known to play the skald. 

[A curious change comes over Thor- 

KEL.] 

Dost thou hear me; or [glancing round] do I not 
speak loud enow for thee ? 

Thorkel. Ssh! What canst thou have to say — 
of that ? 

Ufeig. All that there is to knozu of it, I know. 
Shall I now sit with thee a little ? 

Thorkel. Odd! Go, look an thou can spy thy 
master coming. 'Tis about his time. 

[Odd hangs up the sword in its 
place.] 
Take lantern with thee; 'tis dark; the light will aid 
him. 

[Odd goes out with the doorway 
lantern. Thorkel motions Ufeig 
to his left.] 
Thorkel. 'Tis the first time I have ever suffered 
thee within my doors. 

Ufeig [he stands warming his hands at the fire]. 
Tell me, doth Valbrand know ? 

Thorkel. He heard the tale as I spake it. He 
knows naught else. 

[27] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. Ah! He should be told. 

Thorkel. How so ? 

Ufeig. Doth it not touch him closely ? 

Thorkel. He hath trouble enow of his own al- 
ready, one way and another. 

Ufeig. H'm! Folk say that there be more love 
his side of the bed than Herdisa's; and [the other 
moves uneasily] — and that she yet hath more than 
half a thought for that old cast-off lover of hers, 
whom thou . . . 

Thorkel. She hath forgot him, long ago! 

Ufeig. The folk say otherwise. 

Thorkel. They lie! 

Ufeig. Y.h ? How that must anger thee, Thorkel! 
[Thorkel making no answer, the 
other sits down, and continues, pleas- 
antly.] 

Ah! 

To think, now, how we two old enemies should 
be sitting here so friendly, side by side, talking in thy 
hearth-glow this Winterfeast! And all for what ? 
Why, because those years ago thou wouldst go 
match-making, and meddling with tales and such- 
like follies, like a skald. 

Thorkel. No more of that! Come to thine 
errand. 

[28] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. Ay, t\ut warfare we have had together, 
thou and I, days gone by! Thou wert ever best 
man, I will say that for thee. Three great hurts 
have I had of thee, all told. Dost thou remember 
cleaving me through the brain-pan, here ? 1 was 
nigh done for: ay, 'twas a lucky miss that time. 

Thorkel. 'Twas the trolls saved thee! 

Ufeig. Humph! And once again, when thou 
brakest into my breast — here, by the heart — 'tis all 
of a scab there yet: 'tis smarting now. This too, 
was thine, my withered arm [he lifts it with his left 
hand]— all thy work! 

And to think, that after all this warfare there 
should be made a peace betwixt us, at the last! 

Thorkei.. a peace! Talkest thoii of peace? 

Ufeig. Doth not thy tale stretch so far .'' 

Thorkel. There shall be no such thing betwixt 
thee and me, whiles yet I live! 

Ufeig [musingly]. Nay, then, what might hap, an 
Herdisa and I gat talking together .'' 

Thorkel [fiercely clutching him]. Thou durst not 
tell her! 

Ufeig [wincing]. 'Tis the sore breast, Thorkel: 

Thorkel. I tell thee, thou dog, I will not have 
Herdisa know! 

Ufeig. OIF, thou fool! . . . 
[29] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



She shall not know. We will keep it hidden 
among us, we three men together. 

Thorkel. Three .'' What other man may be in 
this ? 

Ufkig. Valbrand, thy son. He must be told to- 
night. Doth that seem so fearful to thee } 
Thorkfi,. Sure, 'tis hell within thee, stirring! 
Ufeic^. I know not that. I feel it here — at my 
heart. 

[A horn is sounded outside.] 
What was yon .? 

Thorkel. 'Tis Valbrand come home from the 
hills! 

Ufeig [eying him]. WVll .? . . . 
Thorkel. He will lose his peace forever. 
Ufeig. He will hold Herdisa. 
Thorkel. He will hate me for it all my days. 
Ufeig. Better Valbrand hate thee, than Herdisa 
him. Well ? . . . 
Thorkel [bitterly]. Thou shalt have thy pe.^ce. 
Ufeig. Handsel me, thereon. 

[They rise ceremonially to give 
handsel. Ufeig stands facing the 
audience; Thorkel, a little down 
stage, faces him.] 
Thorkel. Reach me forth thy right hand. 
[30] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. 'Tis withered, Thorkcl. Lift it thou. 

[Thorkkl does so.] 
Thorkel. Peace, betwixt thee and me. 
[They resume their seats.] 
Tell me, how didst thou come to learn ....'' 
Ufeig. Thou shalt hear all in good time. Ssh! 
Valbrand! . . . 

[Valbrand enters, closely followed 
by Odd.] 
Valbrand. Come in, boy. Ah! Such a bluster- 
ing day as it hath been! [He hangs up his cloak.] 
Where is Herdisa ? 

Odd. She is over to neighbor Gunnhild's with a 
bake of griddles. 

Valbrand. Ho, Winterfcast, eh ? Thou wilt see 
thy skin full to-night, I warrant thee! Ha-ha-ha! 
Well, I blame thee not. Come, get thee round to 
the byre; there is much work yonder, and I would 
have all done up ere the feast. I will but thaw my 
bones, and join thee, presently. Good lad! [He 
watches him out.] H'm! 

[Odd goes out.] 
Well, old father [coming down to ingle], and how 
is Winterfeast using thee, eh ? 

How now! Priest Ufeig! Father . . . 
Ufeig. Come, friend, speak to thy son. 
[3'] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Friend! Did I hear thee call him 
Friend ? 

Ufeig. Yea, or thou hast no ear. Harkee, Val- 
brand! We have made Peace. How doth that like 
thee .? 

Valbrand. Wouldst thou have truth ? 

Ufeig [dryly]. Yea, I love truth. 

Valbrand. Why then, Priest, I like it marvellous 
ill! Methinks a Peace with thee must needs have 
some huge lie at bottom on't! 

Ufeig [inexpressibly shocked]. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! 
[Nudging Thorkel]. Come, begin, warrior. 

Thorkel. Sit thee down, Valbrand. 

[Valbrand brings Swanhild's stool 
from the table, and places it to right 
of ingle-seat, a little forward. He 
sits.] 

My son, carry thy mind back a twenty years. 
Dost thou remember that day I sailed for Vineland — 
I and thy foster-brother Bjorn ? 

Valbrand. I am not like to forget. 

Thorkel. Two things there were that drave me 
forth that day. Of the one, thou knowest: Iceland 
was become a nest of niddering priests; I had no 
call to stay here. There was yet other reason for 
my going. 

[32] 



THE WINTER FEAST 



Valbrand. And what was that ? 

Thorkel. It was thou, my son — yea, thou. 
Thou wert sick to the heart for Herdisa: and naught 
mightst thou do all the day long for love of her but 
sing thy songs and woo her with fair words. But 
she — Do I pain thee, son .? 

Valbrand. 'Tis in the tale, father. Say on. 

Thorkel. She would not look on thee. Skalds 
and skald-songs were but a mock to her; she would 
have none but a warrior for her mate, she said; and 
ever as she spake she turned her thoughts upon thy 
foster-brother. 

Ufeig. Ay, all the dale knew that! 

Valbrand. Bjorn spake scarce a word to her at 
any time. 

Ufeig. That was for thy sake, Valbrand. He was 
a fool. 

Thorkel. The hour was come to test thee. I 
hated that she and all the folk should call thee 
coward. That year the tidings came of Vineland, 
westaway yonder, over the seas. I fitted out a ship; 
and when all was dight and fair I called a feast, 
and cried for men to join me. Thou alone stoodst 
niddering; thine eyes were bent upon Herdisa. She 
saw thee not; for Bjorn set sail with me. [Passion- 
ately.] My son, why wilt thou still sit silent ? Hast 

[33] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



no blood ? Dost thou not remember that night of 
the Feast, and Herdisa's dealing with thy foster- 
brother ? 

Valbrand. I remember! 

Thorkel. Stood there glorying in Bjorn, whiles 
all around the people scoffed at thee! Gave him 
the very ring from off her arm, and pledged her love 
to him, unsought, unasked . . . 

Ufeig. Ay, that was the point — Unasked! Folk 
afterward said that it was a bold matter for a maid 
to give her heart, unasked! 

Valbrand [darkly]. Bjorn took the ring in silence. 
He spake no word. 

Uffig. Ay, a fool! 

Thorkel. That night mine eyes dreamed blood; 
but whether for love of thee or hate of Bjorn I 
know not. On the morrow we sailed. 

Valbrand. Why wilt thou wake that old dead 
bitterness ^ What part hath it in the Peace ye twain 
have set up together .? 

Thorkel. My son, if I tell thee, thou wilt . . . 
Nay, I can say no more! Tell him thou. 

Ufeig. That will I, and swiftly: 

Harkee, Valbrand! Out of all that company of 
men which fared forth to Vineland that day, only 
two remained alive to tell the tale. 

[34] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel. Two ? 

Ufeig. Yea: Bjorn, left in Vineland, yonder; 
and thou, here in Iceland. 

Thorkel. Humph! He will be dead by now. 

Ufeig. Humph! That would leave only thee. 
Anywise, only thee there was to tell the tale in 
Iceland. 

Valbrand. Well, he told it! 'Twas a mighty tale, 
well spoken, no songman though he be. I hear the 
echo of the people's praise yet ringing in the rafters 
whiles he spake it! 

Ufeig. I was not by, but heard tell thereof. Did 
it not shame Bjorn somewhat .? 

Valbrand [hotly]. The shame was Bjorn's own! 

Ufeig [quietly]. Ay, so thy father said. 

Valbrand. There was Bjorn's own word against 
him! 

Ufeig. Ay, what word was that ? 

Valbrand. Thou hast heard. That he spake by 
mouth of my father. 

Ufeig. What spake he by — mouth of thy father .? 

Valbrand. Why, the mocking message he sent 
Herdisa ! [Fiercely.] What hast thou to say to that ? 

Ufeig [slowly]. I have but two things to say to 
that, Valbrand. First, that message won for thee 
thy wife— 

[35] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Ha! 

Ufeig. And second — it was a lie. 

Valbrand. Priest! 

Ufeig [striking like a serpent]. Ask thy father. 
[Valbrand fears to look at his father! 
When he does the worst is confirmed.] 

Valbrand [gasping]. Father! . . . 

Thorkel [in a low, broken voice]. I did it for thee, 
my son. 

Hast thou no word, Valbrand ? 'Twas for thee. 
Thou wert the child of my blood. 

Valbrand. Yea, thy blood is in me. Mind me 
not of that. ^ 

Thorkel. Thou shalt curse me for it, if thou wilt. 
My son, curse me. 

Valbrand. Curse thee .? Nay, that I cannot, 
either. I never learned. I am no warrior. 

Ufeig [cheerfully]. And now, how best to hide 
this matter from Herdisa! 

Valbrand. What, I! I help to hide it! Help 
him keep his lie! 

Thorkel. Valbrand! Thou wilt wreck her soul 
if thou speak! 

Ufeig. Psh! He will wreck us all! 

Thorkel. It will cost thee so little, son, not to 
speak; naught it hath cost me. 

[36] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. It will cost me a lie! Dost thou hear ? 
A lie! 

Ufeig. What hath she had in her heart for thee 
all these years but a lie ? Her change from Bjorn 
to thee was marvellous swift! 

Valbrand. I have won her a thousand times 
since then! 

Ufeig. Then keep her, thou fool! Keep her! 

Valbrand. How ? By a lie ? 

Ufeig [testily]. Nay, by silence! Thorkel, why 
didst thou breed such a fool ? He angers me. . . . 
Think of thy child! 

Valbrand. Oh! I am blown hither and thither, 
like a leaf! 

[He sits staring before him. They 
watch him closely as they speak.] 

Thorkel. The priest saith truth, son — Silence: 
that is the best rede. Why break her peace ^ 

Ufeig. The lie is not even thine. 

Thorkel. 'Tis so long ago. He will be dead by 
now. Count him dead by now. 

Ufeig. In thee It will be no lie. 

Thorkel. He was thy greatest fear, all said and 
done! 

Ufeig. 'Tis a kind of truth — in thee. 

Thorkel. Why, we have made too much on't. 
[37] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Harkee! Bjorn is dead; my heart saith so; hate 
hath slain him many times. *Tis known to none 
other in the world, save thee and me and old Priest 
Ufeig here. 

Valbrand [suspiciously]. And ///ow, Priest ? What 
wilt thou do .? 

Ufeig [moving to Valbrand's left]. Thy father, 
there, hath handselled me Peace. Handsel me, thou 
also, and no man shall know aught from me. 
Valbrand. So: lie engenders lie! 
Ufeig. 'Tis but thy first, Valbrand. 

[Valbrand rises and takes Ufeig's 

hand, which the latter points to.] 

Valbrand [tonelessly]. Peace betwixt thee and me. 

Ufeig. Now is there high oath sworn betwixt our 

houses. If aught should hap to strengthen your 

hands hereafter I stand free. Betwixt us there 

lies a great peace! 

Valbrand. Let me not find thee here when I 
come back from the byre. 

[He moves heavily up the stage. 
Once he sways slightly, like a drunk- 
en man. At the door he wavers, 
but leaves silently. Ufeig watches 
his exit with a deep smile.] 
Ufeig. That, then, is mine own errand with thee. 
[38] 




BKTWIXT US THERK LIES A GREAT PEACE !' 



THE WINTERFEAST 



But I have more: a gift for thee — another's, not 
mine own. 

Thorkel [absently]. Ay, thou saidst so erewhile. 

Ufeig. There is a ship newly come to Reekfirth, 
up in the north yonder. I was there two days ago. 
Humph! a fair ship once, maybe, but now much 
weathered out on the high seas. Men said there 
was some oath aboard her, that either she should 
touch Iceland by Winterfeast or be torn to rags. 

She was torn to rags; but [he pauses] she reached 
Iceland. 

Thorkel. That was well sworn. Brave men 
aboard her, belike. 

Ufeig. Yea. I spake with one of them. He was 
a stranger. He would be here — in these parts — by 
Winterfeast. 

Thorkel [casually]. Ay, there be many that come 
and go, in Icefirth. 

Ufeig [with quiet intention]. Ay, and yet others, 
that GO, and come again. 

[Thorkel's attention is arrested.] 

Thorkel. A stranger to thee, sayst thou. Did 
he know thee, in any wise .'' 

Ufeig. He made no sign thereof; and I have 
been shaven now nigh — twenty years. 

Thorkel. Hast any inkling of him ? 
[39] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. Now thou askest, mayhap there was some 
slight echo in the voice which ... Eh .? 

Thorkel. What! Big and deep-baying, Hke the 
shout of thunder? 

Ufeig. "Twas much Hke thunder, but held low 
a little, as before the storm. He sent thee this Gift. 
[He gives it to him.] 

Thorkel. A sea-shell: 'tis naught but a sea- 
sh . . . 

Ufeig. What! Hast thou known its like before? 

Thorkel. Its like — ay; its like! 

Ufeig. Not hereabout. 

Thorkel. Nay, but in Vineland yonder, over the 
great sea! 

Ufeig. Humph! 

Thorkel. What spake the Stranger ? 

Ufeig. For thee, but four words. 

Thorkel. And they ? 

Ufeig. Greetings to thee^ skald. 

Thorkel. Skald! [He rises, white with rage.] 
Blind that I have been! Thou hast already . . . 

Ufeig. The Peace, Thorkel! Remember! The 
Peace! 

[Thorkel sinks back, impotent with 
rage.] 

Now at the last do I deem that thou hast paid in 
[40] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



full for my cloven brain-pan: ay, and for the scab 
here, likewise, 

I have one hurt left. 

[He touches his arm. In the door- 
way he has a final sting.] 
A joyful Winterfeast to thee! 

[He goes out into the darkness. 
Thorkel is left staring at the shell.] 
Thorkel. 'Tis Fate! 'Tis Fate! 
Perchance, even this very night . . . 
I never feared him till now. 

There will be naught in his heart but hate for 
me — naught but hate. 

Skald, he said: Yea, Greetings to thee^ skald! 
Ay, Fate! Fate! 

[Herdisa enters. She is wrapped in 
a long cloak. She takes it off, as she 
speaks. She is strangely excited.] 
Herdisa. Thorkel! Thorkel! Art thou there, 
Thorkel .? 

Thorkel. Is it thou, Herdisa .? Where hast thou 
been all this while ^ 

Herdisa. Out in the dark there. Ay, in the dark. 
Thorkel, are we alone ? 

[She comes to him.] 
Thorkel. Herdisa! My daughter! Why, how 
[41] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



p.ilf tlioii art; aiul thy liaiul -how cold: 'tis almost 
. . . Come, sit tluc down. 

[Me helps her to the stool.] 

Ay, and trcmhling all over, like a winter-driven 
sea-hird! 

IIhrdisa. 'Tis the ice-hlast and — the storm out 
yonder! 

Thorkkl. 'Tis calm again now; the storm hath 
passed. 

lli.RDiSA. Mayhap it hut holds off for a while! 

TnoRKEL. There is more in thy mind than thy 
speech hewrays. rcll me, Herdisa, what hast thou 
seen out yonder .'' 

11i;ri)1sa [her eyes dilating]. I have seen naught! 

Thorkel. Then what might have happed to 
fright thee so .? 

lli'KOiSA. It was — a voice! 

I'horkel [startled]. A voice! Tell me thereof. 

Herdisa. I left neighhor Gunnhild's an hour 
ago. 1 was down hy the foreshore yonder; there 
where folk stand to watch the great ships sail forth 
and away down the fiord. 

Thorkel. Thou art always thither these days. 

Herdisa. Yea, and on a night like this . . . 

Thorkel. I know, I know; the seas chime well 
with thv restless heart, Herdisa. 

[4^] 



THK WINTKRFKAST 



IIkrdisa. There was I, to-night. Then came the 
Warninjr. Didst thou hear it ? From over the far 
seas it came, howhng like the Wives of Death! I 
never heard them cry so clear before! As I fell 
back, before the blast, I felt the trailing of their 
skirts upon my face, smelt the loathly blood-scent 
of their breathing. 

Louder and louder the great cry rose, blended with 
thunders; mine ear-drums trembled. Then — amid- 
most of the rack there came forth a mightier sound 
than all. It was as thk voick of onk long dhad! 

Thrice he cried. His words: / liavc lost thee, 
lost thee, lost thee! And as the Warning died away 
in long-drawn sobbing beyond the uplands, me- 
thought I still might hear an echo of that anguish: 
Lost thee! Lost! 

[She sits ga/ing darkly before her.] 

Thorkkl. Maybe 'twas but thy fancy — thy fevered 
heart, and the tempest yonder . . . 

Hi:rdisa. So deemed I as I groped my way 
hitherward through the rising mist; but on the 
crag-brow yonder, lo! another voice to mock me. 
It cried: Where art thou now, Bjorn? Bjorn As- 
rniindssoriy where art thou — now? 

[Her voice has sunk to a whisper. 
There is a short, tense silence.] 
[43] 



THE WINTERFKAST 



Thorkel. How if he were nigh, indeed ? What 
wouKlst thou do ? 

Hhrhisa. 'Tis a dead man we talk on. 

Thorki-i,. What wouldst thou do an he came 
hither, to this house, to-night ? 

Herdisa [slowly]. What would I do ? What 
wouldst th(ni have me do.? Welcome him with 
smiles and hlushing gladness, like a hride ? 

TiiORKKi,. Welcome! Ay, that likes me. It would 
disarm him somewhat — welcome. 

Herdisa. 1 meant not thy meaning; yet thou art 
right; it likes me also. It had heen a fair he- 
ginning! 

Thorkel. Yea, hest rede eveiy way; he should 
find thee proud; there would he a kind of pride in 
that. 

Herdisa. He should not have found me lacking 
therein! 

Thorkel. Then for the rest — Silence, as to 
things gone hy. 

Herdisa. Ha, that were thy counsel — Si- 
lence! 

Thorkel. There is hut little help in speech, 
things get said which were hetter left to die; and, 
after all, 'tis twenty years now, and . . . 

Herdisa. 'Tis not so long hut I rememher! 
[44j 



T H E W I N r E R F E A S T 



TiiORKHL. Why, then, how wouldst thou deal with 
him an he came ? 

Herdisa. Flout him back overseas agaitiy even as 
he flouted me that day in Vineland! 

Thorkkl. Nay, not that way, not that way! 

Hkrdisa. What more bitter hate wouldst thou 
devise ? 

Thorkki,. None! Thou wouldst hut play lits 
tunc with thee! Hate would there be in his heart; 
and hate would he look for . . . 

Hkrdisa. And why not hate for hate ? 

Thorkel. Yea, but buried deep in thy heart, un- 
spoken! 

FIfrdisa. He should have found me bitter, both 
ways ! 

Thorkkl [excitedly]. He will but look for that! 
Look to find thee bitter! He will come here, guile 
on his tongue, antl . . . 

Herdisa. fVill! Will come! Talk we not of 
dead men, and mouthless voices of the storm .? 

Thorkel. Not so, by the blood of Baldur! 

Hearken! And hold thine heart like iron! — 

Bjorn Asmundsson comes hither to-ntghty indeed! 

Hi-RDISA. Ha! 'Tis a lie! 

TiiORKEi,. I would it were so! 

Herdisa. What! The truth, then! 
[45] 



THE WINTKRFKAST 



Thorkel. Ay. 

Herdisa [slowly rising, an awful fire in her eyes]. 
Ah! Thou pitying! After all these years! At last! 
At last! 

Thorkel. Herdisa! Herdisa! What wilt thou 
do? 

Herdisa. Why, dight me, and make ready to give 
welcome to thy foster-son! 

SwANHiLD [within]. Grandfather! Grandfather! 
Thorkel. Peace! The child! 

[Herdisa stands immovable, as 
though carved in stone. She faces 
the audience. Swanhild re-enters 
from the bower.] 
Swanhild. Grandfather! I have seen him! 

[She runs across and stands between 
them.] 
Thorkel [lost in his own thoughts]. Hast thou, 
child ? 

Swanhild. I fell asleep, and saw him walk in 
fantasy. 

Thorkel. Ay, ay, a dream. 
Swanhild. Some dreams be more wide-wakeful 
than we look for! 

Herdisa. Whom dost thou talk of, little one ? 
Swanhild. Hath he not told thee ^ Why, a 
[46] 



T I i IC W I N T E R F K A S T 



lover! ilc came, as folk say spirits rise and look 
on those they love! 

Herdisa. How! As from the dead? 

SwANHiLD [gravely]. 'Tis a kind of death — slumher! 

Herdisa. Nay, then, let him not wake from that 
great silence! Let dead souls bide where they be 
and vex us not! 

SwANiiiLD. Nay, that Is unkindness of thee, 
mother! 

Herdisa [embracing her]. How, to thi^eP I would 
not hurt my little ewe-lamb for all the world! 

SwANHiLD. A lover should be welcome! 

Herdisa. What, thou too! Then, welcome shall 
he be, even though he come this very hour! We will 
make ready for him now. 

Swanhild [radiant]. Mother! Dost thou mean it.'' 

Thorkel. Have a care, Herdisa! 

Swanhild. Tush! 'Tis but a game, grand- 
father. I know 'tis but a game; and yet, if it should 
prove indeed . . . 

Herdisa. Therefore, set thou one more platter 
on the table. 

Swanhild [gleefully doing so]. Yea, yea, mother! 
And a knife, and a cup to drink from! , . . 

Thorkel. Have a care thy game end not in 
mockery, Herdisa! 

[47] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. 'Tis that end I look for. [To Swan- 
HiLD.] Next, drag thou the guest seat yonder. Let 
it face the high place where Thorkel shall sit, that 
the guest may be seen of all! He shall not lack for 
welcome an he come! 

[Valbrand re-enters as Swanhild 
does so.] 

Swanhild [joyously]. Welcome to Winterfeast, 
father! 

Valbrand. Ay, ay, little bird! Hello! The guest 
seat! Who comes .? 

Swanhild. Ah! 'Tis a secret! My mother bade 
me set. 

Valbrand. So ? Wife . . . 

Herdisa. 'Tis Winterfeast. Best be ready. 

Valbrand. Dost thou look for a guest ? Dost thou .? 

Herdisa [hesitating]. None that I know on, for 
sure. 

Valbrand. Why, then, set for shadows! Tush! 
Take away! 

[Odd comes in. He stands up at 
the door.] 

Thorkel. Perchance, if one came, a little wel- 
come . . . 

Valbrand [bitingly]. I crave no merry-making 
here to-night! Dost thou? Take away! 

[48] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Odd. So please thee, master, there is a man com- 
ing up by the dale there. 
Herdisa. How — a man! 

[She shrinks Into the ingle. Val- 
BRAND notes the movement.] 
Valbrand. Humph! Leave the seat. Who may 
it be.? 

[A horn sounds outside. Thorkel 
rises; Herdisa looks scared; Val- 
brand perplexed. Sv^anhild flames 
to a rapture.] 
SwANHiLD. Mother! . . . 

[Valbrand glances from her to Her- 
disa. The latch of the door is tried.] 
Valbrand. Odd! 

[Odd opens the door. There enters 
a tall, handsome, bearded, some- 
w^hat grizzled w^arrior. He bears a 
naked sv^ord. Striding to the middle 
of the room, he regards Valbrand 
quizzically. Herdisa and Thor- 
kel are hidden in the ingle.] 
A stranger! 

SwANHiLD [down stage, to the right]. Not he! 
BjORN. Is there harborage here for a wayfaring 
guest to-night ? 

[49] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Comest thou — in warfare or — in 
friending ? 

BjORN [whimsically]. As thou wilt! I have a 
sword here, an thou wilt fight me! 

Am I not welcome ? I had thought to be looked 
for. 

Valbrand [gasping]. I know not yet what name 
to call thee by. 

BjORN [handing him his sword]. Thou wilt find 
it nicked on the haft there. 

[V^ALBRAND reads, and drops the 
sword.] 

Valbrand. 'Tis that I gave . . . 

BjORN. Ah! My foster-brother! My foster- 
brother! 

Valbrand. Thou art much changed. Thy beard 
— thy . . . 

BjORN. Well, hast no welcome for me ^ There is 
little in thy face as yet, meseems! 

Valbrand. Nay, I am glad enow. 'Tis but dazed 
— here! [He presses his brow.] After all these 
years, we — ^we did not look for thee. We . . . 

[He stands fascinated by the guest 
seat.] 

Swanhild. 'Twas well my mother bade me set! 

BjORN. What! Herdisa! Ay, she would remem- 
[50] 



IIIK WINTERFKASr 

bcr inc! Where is she? Where? . . . Ah, thou! 
How fair, how fair to find — thee! 

• [They stand looking at one another.] 

Hast thou no word of ^reetin^ for thine old friend ? 

Hmkdisa. Is all well with thee, Hjorn Asmundsson ? 

[Tn()RKi;i< stands ap[)rehensive in 

the ingle.] 

[First Picturk. As above. 
[Skcond Pic ruRi;. Pjorn embracing 
his foster-father. Thorkel with a 
scared face. 

[Third Picture. All seated at the 
supper-table, as at the beginning of 
the second act.] 



END OF THE FIRST ACT 



THE SECOND ACT 



The Brkad of Sinfiotm's Baking 



THE SECOND ACT 

The scene remains unchanged. 

Swanhild's stool has been moved back again to its 
place at the lower end of the table. Bjorn's sword still 
lies on the floor, near front. 

Supper is over, and the ale-joyance begun. Thorkel 
sits in the high seat; opposite him, in the guest seat, Bjorn 
—the seat pushed back a little from the table; and he faces 
the audience. Behind him, at upper end of table, sits 
Herdisa; at lower end, Swanhild, facing toward Bjorn; 
Valbrand is to right of his father and on the same side 
of the table. Odd waits upon them with the mead-bottle. 

Valbrand. More drink there, Odd! 

Bjorn. Valbrand hath mended! Time was he 
had no more head for the mead than a babe. He 
hath played toss-pot enov^ to-night for us all! 

Valbrand [hotly]. I have drunk no more than thou ! 

Bjorn [jovially]. Not! Why, thou hast the throat 
of Heel a! Here, boy! 

[Holding out his cup to Odd.] 

He shames me! 

[553 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Now! I will drink thy blood dry ere I cry me 
beaten by thee! 

Valbrand. Take thou care I drink not thine 
first! 

BjORN. A challenge! I take thee! Ply him, 
thrall! Herdisa, here, shall sit and judge betwixt us. 
Wilt thou, Herdisa ? 

Herdisa. What, sit and weigh you twain, the one 
against the other ? 

BjORN. Ay, if thou wilt. So, the cups be full! To 
it, brother! 

Valbrand. Nay, by Heaven! I will not drink 
with thee! Weigh him with some other! 

BjORN [half angrily]. Ho-ho! Foster-bro . . . 
SwANHiLD [simultaneously]. Guest! I pray . . . 
[She runs to his side and turns, facing 
her father.] 
My father drinks but little at any time. 
BjORN [after a moment's irresolution]. Well, I 
will not press thee, for I see thou art the old Val- 
brand — moody as ever! 
Valbrand. Ay, moody, call it! 

[SwANHiLD moves down to Odd, 
left, and points to the mead-bottle, 
whispering. Her back is to Bjorn 
for a while.] 
[56] 



THE WINTERFEAST 

BjORN. Herdisa, thou hast become good huswife 
since I saw thee last. Never have I tasted feast 
more welcome. And thy mead! [He drinks.] Ah! 
'Tis a ripe brew! [Drinks again.] And thou thy- 
self art grown more fair than ever! 

Herdisa. 'Tis the gladness of seeing thee again, 
Bjom Asmundsson. 

BjORN. I would fain think so; and, indeed, thy 
kindness makes me bold. I would crave yet more of 
thee by-and-by. 

Herdisa. Thou shalt have yet more than thy 
craving. 

BjORN [indicating Sv/anhild]. Yea, but by-and- 
by, dost understand ? By-and-by. Tut! 'Tis secret 
yet! There be one too many of us here to speak out 
now. 

Valbrand [whose face has been toward audience]. 
Ha! 

BjORN. What ails him now ^ More moods, eh ? 
Well, I say naught. 'Tis the skald's way, I guess. 

Valbrand. Do not thou call me skald! 

BjORN. What else shall I call thee, if not skald .? 
I deem a man may call cat caty and thee, skald! 

SwANHiLD. My father hath not sung in this house 
a twenty years. My grandsire said so. 

BjORN. What! Is that so, Thorkel ? 
[57] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel. He hath had other work to do. 

BjoRN. Nay, but thine own work, lad! Herdisa, 
what hast thou been doing with him all these days ? 

Valbrand [savagely]. She hath made me a mighty 
warrior, like thee! 

BjORN. What — Thou! Herdisa, is this truth.? 

Hkruisa. Like thee — ay. 

BjORN. Nay, I meant not that; but ... A war- 
rior! Valbrand! 

Herdisa. How else might we keep alive thy mem- 
ory among us ? 

SwANiULD. 'Tis truth, Bjorn. My father hath 
done many brave deeds! Look thou, yonder is his 
sword. Odd, bring it. 

[He does so. BjORN takes it. Swan- 
Hii.D stands between them, slightly 
back.] 

Odd. See, Master. With this he hath slain many 
a man. 

Bjorn [holding it out, arm's-length]. Humph! 'Tis 
a good blade! This might kill a man, well! Eh! 
What is this .'' On the haft, here ? 

Odd. 'Tis hemp to hold by. 'Twas I who . . . 

Bjorn [outraged]. What! Hemp! Hemp to . . . 

Swanhild [quickly]. 'Tis gentler holding, Bjorn. 
[Valbrand has risen, cup in hand.] 
[58] 



THK WIN TKRFKAS'l' 



BjORN [perceiving]. Ay, ay, ay; a good device! 
[Valbrand drains his cup and dash- 
es it angrily to the ground. He then 
moves unsteadily toward the ingle. 
BjoRN follows the action with sur- 
prise.] 
BjORN. So, so, so, warrior! 

Valbrand [turning]. How! Doth that bite thee 
so ? 

BjORN. What, that thou art a warrior, Val- 
brand ? 

Valbrand. Yea, I know thy deeds shone fairer, 
when I was but a skald! 

BjORN [gently]. Did they so ? 'Twas the skald 
that I loved, brother. 
Valbrand. Ha! 'Tis no odds! 

[F[e goes to ingle and sits down, 
lost in bitter thought.] 
Bjorn. Herdisa, thou hast done ill to let my 
foster-brother change thus. Nay, I say it; and, 
sooth, ye both be dear to me. 

Herdisa [with quiet irony]. Thou wert too far 
away for me to seek thy counsel. 

[Sw^ANHiLD takes her father's place at 
the table. Odd puts by the sword.] 
Bjorn. I loved those songs of Valbrand's. What 
[59] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



wanted he with deeds and rage and hatred — ^yea, 
and blood upon his hands ? 'Twas the fire that 
spake in him! Why sought he blood to quench it ? 

SwANHiLD. Were my father's songs so dear to 
thee, Bjorn ? I never heard my father sing. 

BjORN. Nay, an he have forgot the craft, how 
should he teach them thee ? 

SwANHiLD. Hast thou remembered any of them ? 

Bjorn. Yea, and sang them many a time to — to 
ONE I LOVED in Vineland. 

[A silence. Then Herdisa speaks 
curiously.] 

Herdisa. So, thou hast had company with thee, 
out yonder ? 

Bjorn. Yea, but I had meant to tell thee of that 
when thy little maid was abed; and yet . . . 

Well, I see not why . . . 

Herdisa [hiding some emotion]. We wait to hear 
thee. 

Bjorn. First, I must tell thee, there was a certain 
fair woman yonder — the daughter of the Red Folk's 
king. 'Twas for her sake I gat left behind in Vine- 
land. Well, Thorkel will have told thee that; 'tis 
not for me to vaunt myself . . . 

Herdisa. Vainit thyself! 

Bjorn. Why, hath he not told thee .? 
[60] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Hfrdisa [with veiled irony]. Yea, he sang thy 
praises! 

BjoRN. Tut! What other could I do? 'Twas 
naught! By Valhal! we had known too sore the 
rutliless hatred of those fierce, red-faced men the 
while they held us captive in their booths. One by 
one they took us, every other day, and slew us to 
their gods — ay, every other day, one man! Last of 
all, Thorkel and I alone remained. Then came that 
woman in the night, unbound our bonds, and led us 
to our ship. Aboard, we strove to bring her with 
us; but she slipped our hands and fled into the 
woods. What might I do .? I could not leave her 
there to taste the bloody fury of her kin. I left a 
word for thee with Thorkel, lest ... I followed 
her. I had not been a man else. 

When I had found her, and would return, there 
were the Red Folk pressed upon the shore, and the 
ship set sail without me. 

Herdisa [unbelievingly]. Nay, then, why not vaunt 
thyself indeed! 'Tis a gentle tale — told most like 
a skald! Thorkel had not half thy gift the day he 
spake it. 

BjORN. Tush, tush! 'Tis naught! Speak not of 
it! 

Herdisa. So, then, thy songs in Vineland . . . 
[6i] 



THE WINTERFKAST 



BjoRN. 1 come to that. 

To the north we fled, through many perils. 'Twas 
hut that once I saved her Hfe. Mine she saved 
seven times, all told. Afterward, I lived with her a 
twelvemonth; and then she died. She was exceed- 
ing fair, and loved me much. By her i had . . . 
[He breaks off, lost in some deep 
thought.] 

Herdisa. Yea, what hadst thou by her? 

BjORN. Why, all the joy and comfort of my many 
years out yonder! 

Herdisa. By the — red woman.? 

BjORN. By the red woman — ay. . . . [To Swan- 
hild]. Tell me, child, hast thou e'er been spoken 
for in wedlock ? 

Swanhild. I am too young. My father could 
ill spare to lose me yet awhile. 

BjORN [thoughtfully]. A man might ill spare that 
at any time — to lose his child! 

Swanhild [naively]. I am useful about the house 
here. 

BjORN. I warrant thee! So, then — no lover in 
thine heart, as yet ? 

Swanhild. In mine heart F Nay, I said not that. 

BjORN [disappointed]. What! Thou hast.? Al- 
ready ? 

[62] 



T n K W 1 N T V: R F !•: AST 



SwANHiLD. I know not how to answer thee. I 
ne'er set eyes upon him in niy Hfe, and yet I looked 
for him to-night! 

BjORN. Mow! Ne'er set eyes upon him, and . . . 

SwANHiLD. 'Twas in the bower yonder that he 
came! 

BjORN. The bower! 

SwANHiLD. Yea, showed himself in dream to me! 

BjORN [his anxiety gone]. Oh — a dream! A 
dream! 

SwANHiLD. Yea, but true for all that! I saw him 
plain before mine eyes, as — as I see thee now! . . . 
Oh, Bjorn! ... I never noted it before! . . . 

BjORN. Why, how now .? 

SwANHiLD. He was as like to thee as . . . Yea, 
an thou wert younger, and thy beard away . . . 

Bjorn. What! Like me .f* Child, thou movest me! 

SwANHiLD. He might have been thy very . . . 

Bjorn. Say! Quickly! How looked he .^ 

SwANHiLD [eagerly]. Tall and fair, smooth-faced 
like a lad, with most kind eyes! They shone like 
stars! There was a kind of king in his eyes! 

Bjorn [uplifted]. By Valhalla! yea, a king in- 
deed! 

Thorkel. What, is that thy thought of thyself, 
Bjorn ? 

[63] 



T H I : W I N T E R F E A S T 



BjORN. I think not of myself! 

TiiORKi'L. Like thee, she said. 

BjoRN, Ay, but . . . 

'Tis strange! Most marvellous strange! The 
child hath had the gift upon her, sure. Here in thy 
house, thou saidst ? A dream ? . . . Art thou certain 
it was — a dream ? 

SwANHiLD. I slept — and he came! 

lijORN. Why, then, he may come again, and thou 
— awake! Ihirkee, Swanhild! 'Tis secret yet; but 
. . . Mayhap I will play the wizard for thee, by-and- 
by; yea, mayhap Hnd thy lover for thee, by-and-by. 

Swanhild. Bjorn! . . . 

BjORN. Remember that I told thee. 

Swanhild. What! Find my lover! My lover! 
[She turns a rapt little face toward 
the audience.] 

Herdisa [as from a trance]. That same red 
woman of thine, had she any liking for thy skald- 
songs ? 

lijORN. What ^ Valbrand's ? She ? She like 
them ? Forsooth, the poor soul scarce gathered a 
word of mine all the year I lived witli her. We 
spake two tongues, she and I. 

Hf.rdisa. Waste labor then, methinks, singing 
songs to deaf ears! 

[64] 



TIIK WIN rKRFKAST 



BjORN. I found ears for tlicin. 

Herdisa. Mnylinp thou dost rate thy voice too 
highly! rhey were songs of love, or such hke, if my 
memory fail not. 

BjORN [gravely]. It fails not, Ilerdisa. Those 
songs were made for thee. 

Herdisa. Ay, but sung by a skald, indeed! 

BjORN [glancing toward Vai.hrand]. A great one! 

That minds me. Naming skalds ^ foster-father, 
thou hast been too long silent. I would have a word 
with thee. 

Teiorkel. Eh! What! With me, Bjorn ? 

BjORN. Yea; but first, thy cup stands empty 
there. Thou wert not wont to sit and let the mead- 
foam flood idly by thee; and [significantly] 1 am 
thirsty, too. 

TiiORKEi. [abstractedly]. Ay, ay; fill up, boy. 

[Odd does so, Bjorn remarking 
meanwhile.] 

Bjorn. There doth not seem to be the same 
drinkinir done in IceHrth as aforetime. 

Herdisa. We have changed in many things. 

Bjorn. So! Now, Thorkcl; first, this cup with 
thee; and then shalr thou speak forth boldly, like 
a man, and tell how it came about that thou turned 
skald! 



Ill v. WIN ri-: RFKAS r 



IIerdisa. \c:\y the hour is ripe for that! 

[On the word "skald" rnoRKKi, 
puts down his cup untasted. Bjorn 
does the same.] 

RjORN. Why dost thou not drink ? 

TnoRKKi,. I have no head to drink to-night. 

HjoRN. What, what, what! Thou, too! 

riiORKKL. 1 am not so ahle as I was. Come, let 
us gather round the fire yonder. [Rises.] 

HjoRN. Not till thou hast told thy tale, father! 
Come! Let the drinking he; hut thy tale, at 
least! 

Thorkf.i, [tieively]. Why wilt thou mock so f 
The priest hath told thee all, already! 

BjORN. Not a word! Me told me hut plain 
this — that thou wert skald. He would tell no 
more. 

Thorkhk. What! No more than that! Thou 
hast heard no more than that .? 

Hjorn. Naught. Thou shalt tell me now. 

Hi-RDivSA. Ay, tell him! 

TiioRRii.. Why i.\o I stand bahbling here.? How! 
Tell thee tales! Tales! Why should I tell tales to 
thee ? I am no skald! 

BjORN. Why, the priest saiil that thou . . . 

Thorkel. The priest! Ua! . . . 
[o(.] 



Ill I'. Wl KTV: RKi: AST 



lOiiovv! 1 join my son yoiuKr. 

[lie moves rouiul, and (ovvjicl Vai.- 
IlKANI). I 
IJjouN. riiin<;s he cIkim'^ccI in Iccliilli, inclcid! 
I'llORKi.i. |(iirninti;]. Taki' them as they he in 
silence. 

I liRDisA. And why, forsooth, may not our warrior 
he enliiihtened ? Is it not time? Sure, 'tis a hrave 
tale enow that he asks for, and touches some of us, 
full closely. 

TiioRis.!'!,. He is our guest; let that snIHcc him. 
If he like it not — Il'm! 

[He goes to the ingle seat and sits to 
Vai.mkand's left. The others wateii 
him go. Vaiiikani) sits doggedly.] 
Hl'.uniSA. I fear we do not make- thee (eel thy 
welcome, Hjorn. 

lijoKN. Nay, an it come to that, i/ioii hast hecn 
most kind. 

Herdisa. It pleases thee to say so. Hut come 
now, my kinsmen he too moody to drink. How if 
I do taste one cuj) with thee ? What sayest thou .'' 
Shall we -]>ledge loves together.? 

BjORN. That will I, all my heart, Herdisa! 
Hkrdisa. Why, then, all thy heart, thou shalt. 
TvO, now [pointing to Thorkel's untasted cup], 

[^7 J 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel hath furnished forth a cup for me; and 
thine own is yet undrained. Wilt thou reach me 
yon ? 

[He reaches over the table to do so.] 
Hold! Tis a foolish question; but. . . . Whither 
hath the ring gone from off thine arm — that which 
once I gave thee ? Hast thou lost it ? 

BjORN. Nay, not lost; but . . . one I love . . . 
Herdisa. I understand. So! Thy pledge! 
BjORN. Why, then, thus, Herdisa: Heart's love to 
thee, and faith till death. So pledge I thee — brother s 
wife. [Drinks.] Thine. Why dost thou tarry ? 

[At the word "death" her eyes have 
filled with some strange, prescient 
horror.] 
Herdisa. 'Tis but a word I halt for. I know 
not how to pledge thee. 

BjORN. Pledge from thine heart, Herdisa. 
Herdisa. Why then: Whatso lies in mine heart 
for thee, that do I pledge thee, Bjorn Asmundsson. 
BjORN. That was well said. 
Herdisa. Amen. 

[A single knock at the door. They 
listen.] 
Bjorn. Do outlaw men go free in Icefirth nowa- 
days ? Was any horn blown I 

[68] 




HKARI S l.OVH TO THl'K, AND I'Mlll 111.1. DI'A'IH 



TIIK WINTM'.R K FAST 



Herdisa. None, to mine cars. 

[riic knock is repeated.] 
Valbrand. Give bidding, thrall. We he four 
men here. 

Oi:)D [calling]. Come thou in an thou niean |)eace! 
[The door opens and lJii;i(; enters. 
He closes the door (juietly behind 
him. HjORN remains seated, but 
turns slightly toward the new-comer. 
Thorkki- sits ga/ing round appre- 
hensively; he has recogni/ed the 
knock. ITi'RDiSA and Vai.hrani) 
rise, the latter stepping a little down 
stage and facing toward Ufhk;, 
SwANHiLD rises and shrinks down 
right.] 
BjORN. What! The priest with whom 1 spake 
two days ago! 

Ufeig. Mine eyes be half blinded with the dark 
out of which I come, and yet I know thy voice. A 
second greetings to thcc - sirnnjrrrf 

BjoRN [cordially]. '1 he like by thee, with thanks 
for thy service done me. 

Ufeig. 'Twas no service. Well, now . . . [lie 
glances round the room.] 

Herdisa. Valbrand, art thou master here, or no? 
[69J 



THE WINTER FEAST 



Or is it thy wont to let thy guests talk, pleasantly with 
thy toes and thou look on ? Up, if thou hast blood 
in thee, and drive yon old gray wolf from thy doors! 

BjoRN. How! Foes ? . . . 

Ufeig. Nay, then, perchance he hath not told thee 
yet. Humph! 'Tis pity! Thou wilt ne'er speak 
kindly to ine, Hcruisa, till thou know. 

Herdisa. I should like to hear that would make 
me talk kindly with thee! 

Ufeig. Why, thou shalt have thy liking, and wel- 
come. There is peace betwixt thy kinsmen and me. 

Herdisa. Thou art a liar to say so! 

Ufeig. Ask Thorkel. Thou wilt scarce give the 
lie to thy good old Thorkel. 

Valbrand [roughly]. The peace hath been hand- 
selled and made firm. There is no more to say. 

Herdisa. Why, then, I will say no more! Nathe- 
less, my thoughts may still work a little within 
me! But ye brave men will scarce care to hear a 
woman speak forth her heait full flood, when ye 
have, all so gently, undone the hate of years! [Sud- 
denly, passionately.] Tell me but one thing. Was 
this peace with our bitter foe brought about by the 
warrior of you tw^ain or by — the skald .? Ye answer 
not. 

Ufeig. Sure, it was brought about by the skaU. 
[70] 



Tlir: WINTER FEAST 



Valbrand [furiously]. Dost thou say by mc ? 

Ufeig. By the skald, I say. Is not that sooth ? 
Or shall I speak more plainly .? 

[Thorkkl has risen. He restrains 
his son.] 

Doth that suffice thee, Herdisa ? 

Hkrdisa. The skald — ay! 

BjORN. I am not bound, Herdisa. If aught I may 
do will avail . . . 

Herdisa. Peace! I crave not help of thee! [To 
Ufeig.] Say, what devil hath urged thee hither 
now ? 

Ufeig. Unbelief, Herdisa; unbelief like thine, 
when first our peace was told thee. My seven big 
sons at home yonder, they doubted, also, when I 
brake the tidings an hour ago. What proof might I 
offer them ? None! None at all save my bare word, 
which they. . . . Well, I say no more of that. 

My son, Helgi, found grace first . . . 

SwANHiLD [involuntarily]. Black Helgi! . . . 

Ufeig. Yea, thou wilt remember Helgi, Swanhild. 
. . . He said that if our peace meant aught at all 
it should be made sound and binding, beyond all 
doubt; something should be devised, said he, to lock 
our friendship fast; and he hit upon a rede which 
pleased us all. Thereupon, am I come hither. 

[71] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Now, thou wilt scarcely guess mine errand here, 
Herdisa! . . . 

[She remains stubbornly silent.] 
BjORN. Some money-gift, an I take right measure 
of thee. 

Ufeig. She craves not help of thee! But thou art 
wrong. Thorkel, what sayest thou ? 

Thorkel [gloomily]. Our help, at need, thou hast, 
by the peace. 

Ufeig [pleasantly]. Nay. Try thou, Valbrand! 
Valbrand. I will not guess thy riddles. 
Ufeig. Then must I needs call "dog," and bark, 
too! Harkee! / corne a-wooing hither. . . . 

[There is a vague sensation among 
them.] 
Nay, nay. Tut! Not for myself — I be wellnigh 
past such foolery — but for Helgi, my son. 
[BjORN starts up in anger.] 
How ? Doth that startle thee, also .? 
BjORN [white hot]. I will but say one word to thee: 
Whom doth thy son seek to woo in this house "^ 

Ufeig. Doth it touch thee so nearly.? Lo! then 
look beside thee, stranger. 

[SwANHiLD already clings to Bjorn. 
There is a confused noise of all talk- 
ing together and as sudden a reac- 
[72] 



THE WINTER FEAST 



tion into silence. Thorkel's voice 
tails off last.] 
Thorkel. Damnation! This hath gone too far! 
Valbrand. By Heaven! There shall be an end 
of it! Thrall! Reach me my sword! . . . 
Ufeig. Hold thy hand! Lest I smite thee! 

[Valbrand falls slightly back.] 
[Deeply]. Ay, even where it will hurt thee most. 
BjORN. What! With that puny arm of thine.? 
[He points to the other's uplifted left 
arm.] 
Ufeig. Nay, with this other; 'tis withered, but 
the deadlier of the twain. 
BjORN. Ha-ha! A wizard! 

Ufeig. Psh! [To Valbrand.] Well, what is 
thine answer to my kinsmen .? 

Valbrand, Herdisa, one word with thee alone; 
and afterward . . . 

Herdisa. Too many have been spent already. 
'Tis but one deed wanted here, and that scarce a 
man's. 

BjORN. I hold with thee, Herdisa! 

Valbrand. Why, then, come what may, this to 

thee and to thy kinsmen. Take back my flouting 

and scorn! Ay, and look thou out for warfare, Priest, 

from this day forth — thou and thy seven great sons. 

[73] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



As for Black Helgi, tell him from me I take his mock, 
and this world is not big enow to hold us twain hence- 
forward. When thou shalt see his carcass tossing 
for fish-meat in yonder fiord, thou shalt guess my 
meaning! Till then let him mock still! 

So! The peace is broken! Now do thine utter- 
most; and hell grip thee! 

[After a moment Ufeig says slowly.] 
Ufeig. That uttermost will I do, Valbrand, and 
now! 
Valbrand. I will not be by the while! 
Thorkel. There is a better way; bide a little. . . . 
Valbrand. Bide thou! I leave my shame with 
thee! 

[He rushes out into the night. 
Ufeig turns and watches him off.] 
Ufeig. Now will I spread light among you. 

[Thorkel interposes with a voice 
of thunder.] 
Thorkel. Hold! I have a w^ord to say! Have/ 
yet broken peace with thee ? 

Ufeig. Thy son is one with thee. 
Thorkel. Have / — yet — broken peace with thee ? 
Ufeig. The peace was made with both, and he 
hath broken it. 

Thorkel [grimly]. There shall be made amends. 
[74] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thrall, go bring thy master back again. Tell him 
I, his father, bid him. 

Ufeig [quietly]. I should say crave him, Thor- 
kel. 

Thorkel. Say what thou wilt, but bring him. 

[As Odd reaches the door.] 
Say — all is well. I would have him here, and 
quickly. 

[Odd goes out.] 
Ufeig [eying Thorkel]. Is all well ? 
Thorkel. It shall be made so. Thy kinsmen 
would not take thy word. How if I came yonder 
to thy hall and made all clear .? 

Ufeig [eagerly]. Wilt thou go .? [His eyes flash 
triumphantly to his right.] Now .? 
Thorkel. Now. Get thee forward. 
Ufeig [promptly]. I will. 

[He goes toward the doorway, Thor- 
kel in the mean time wheeling cen- 
tre. Thorkel's next remark makes 
the priest turn inquiringly upon the 
threshold.] 
Thorkel [to Swanhild]. Child, bring my helm 
hither, and old War-Flame. 

[Swanhild brings them from the 
high seat.] 
[75] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thy father will be home within the minute. Tell 
him what hath passed. For thyself, fear not, child. 
[She goes into the ingle-place.] 

Ufeig. Why War-Flame with thee, Thorkel .? 

Thorkel. 'Tis my wont to bear my sword in 
hand when I go about to stablish peace. 

[They go, warrior and priest, to- 
gether.] 

BjORN [crossing to Swanhild]. Tell me, child, 
how long hath yon priest vexed this house ^ 

Swanhild. 'Tis of long standing — our quarrel 
with him. I have heard my grandsire say that it 
goes back to the old days, when he was priest of 
Thor, here. 

BjORN. What, he! Sure yon was not old Ufeig! 

Swanhild. The same. Didst thou not know .? 

BjORN. Ufeig! He is much changed! 

Swanhild. Folk say he can change shape at any 
time. 

BjORN. Nay, but to mock my brother so! Ay, 
and Thorkel, too! Ufeig! 

Herdisa. Doth mocking move thee so much, 
Bjorn ^ 

BjORN [sitting in the ingle]. Gods! Ay. 

Herdisa. Leave us, Swanhild; I would speak 
with our guest alone. Go, seek thy father. 

[76] 



'1^ 1 1 i: W I N T K R I'^ I<: A S T 



[SWANHILD goes out. HeRDISA 

walks slowly to the side of the 
ingle-seat before speaking.] 
Thou art right; it hath a cruel sting— mocking! 
BjORN. Why will they suffer it ? An it were my 
case . . . 

Herdisa. Yea, how wouldst thou deal with mock- 
ers ? 

BjORN. There should be but one doom, and that 
a swift one! 

Herdisa. Why dost thou harp so on that word ? 
BjORN. What word, Herdisa .? 
Herdisa. Why, Jeath. May there not be hate 
without slaughter ? 

BjORN. Nay, but for such an one as Ufeig . . . 
Herdisa. Leave Ufeig. Let us come to tht'e. 

[BjORN looks up inquiringly.] 
Let me sit beside thee a little. 
BjORN. Do, Herdisa. 

[He makes room for her on his 
right.] 
'Tis not the first time we twain have sat together 
in this ingle. Dost thou remember, Herdisa .? 

Herdisa. I remember. But in those old days 
we were for the most part silent; thou wouldst ever 
go red when I spake to thee, and glance aside; thou 

[77] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



durst not meet mine eyes. Ay, there was little said 
betwixt us. 

BjORN. There was reason for that, Herdisa. My 
brother . . . 

Hkrdisa. I learned thy reason sure enow — later! 

BjoRN. Well, those days be dead now. 

Hkrdisa. For thee, ay. Ha-ha! How thou 
wouldst ever redden in thy face and turn away thine 
eyes! 

BjORN. I was but a boy. Look into them now. 

Hi;rdisa [faltering]. Not so; I fear to see the 
mocker there, Bjorn Asmundsson. 

BjORN. Mocker! How so^ What mocker.'* 

Herdisa. Why, thou! Thou, mocker! The 
mocker of women! 

Bjorn [stung]. Ha! [Gravely,] Thou dost wrong 
me to the quick, Herdisa. Thou shouldst best know 
that. For the love of one woman in my life have I 
ever hold all women most dear. 

Herdisa [laughing]. For thy red woman, ay! 
Well, I know not of that. Maybe she had some 
witchcraft to keep thee true. 

Bjorn. I owe her much. I would talk to thee of 
that. 

Herdisa. I know not that I care to hear thee. 

Bjorn. It touches both of us. She hath left a 
[78] 



T H I-: w I N 1^ i: R V v: a s t 



balm for thcc and me, that dead woman; it may heal 
much pain — yea, bind our Hvcs forevcrmore. 

Hkrhisa. Why wilt thou still talk of" thy woman ? 
I seek no halm of herl Why dost thou shirk the 
thought unspoken in our hearts ? Come thou to 
the matter that stands like a great fire between thy 
soul and mine! 

Why wilt thou not speak ? Or . . . hast thou per- 
chance forgotten ? 

BjORN. I forget naught of what hath been, yet — 
it shames to speak of it. 

HiiRDisA. 11a! 'Tis good thy shame is known to 
thee! 

BjORN. I know no shame as matters stand now, 
only shame if I speak — shame to both of us, Herdisa. 
Why shouldst thou seek to loosen the long silence of 
years ? The past is dead; let it be buried among 
us now. 

Hkrdisa. Answer me one thing: Why wilt thou 
not speak of it ? 

BjORN. Why ask ? There is that therein forbids 
me speak. 

Hrrdisa. 'Tis that I would have thee say! 

BjOKN. How shall I; since . . . 

Hkrdisa. Since ....'' 

Bjorn, Since thou art wedded to my foster-brother f 
[79] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. Ah! That is thy taunt! Because I 
wedded with thy foster-brother! Make thy shame 
mine! Mine! [Passionately.] Shall I tell thee why 
I wedded him ? Shall I ? Shall I ? 

BjORN. Too much hath been said already! Her- 
disa . . . 

Herdisa. Hearken! Thou shalt not stir till thou 
hast heard the last word. Have I borne this burden 
all these years, to shirk it at the last, when I have 
thee here, alive, to listen ? I trow not! Hearken: 

It was thou whom I loved those days we talk on, 
Bjorn Asmundsson. I loved thee with all my 
heart . . . 

Bjorn. Herdisa . . . 

Herdisa. God's blood! I need not hide it! All 
the dalesfolk knew it, for I was but a young, glad 
girl, wearing her heart upon her sleeve for all the 
world to see! Thou wert ever in my thoughts; thou 
wert my warrior, my king! For thee I lived, I 
breathed! I watched thee all about, whereso'er thy 
footsteps led thee; thou wert my day, my sunshine; 
without thee all was night! 

Nay, thou shalt hearken , . . 

Thou wert a silent man in those days, naught like 
thy foster-brother — all songs and fair speech! Deeds 
were thy life — ^warrior deeds — and even for that I 

[80] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



loved thee. He sought me ever with his songs and 
plaints and tears, but I heeded him not; I had 
naught but mockery for him then. Thou wert by, 
with thy mighty deeds — thou, who hadst never so 
much as named the name of love within mine 
ear! . . . 

BjORN. But in mine heart . . . 

Herdisa. Yea, in thine heart. So deemed I then 
— in thine heart! And for that I waited — ^waited, 
hungering, day by day. Thou wouldst not speak. 
Methought it was love of thy foster-brother, and 
pity of his sorrow, that kept thee wordless . . . 

BjORN. And so it was . . . 

Herdisa. And even for that I hated him the 
more. So the days wore on, and still the same 
sweet singing from Valbrand; still the same unbroken 
dumbness from thee. 

Bjorn. Herdisa! Thou tearest at mine heart! 

Herdisa. What of mine ? Dost thou remember 
that night of the Great Feast, ere thy going away ? 
Dost thou ^. [Smiting her brow with clinched fist.] 
It hath been branded here in my brow, night and 
day, for twenty years! 

Bjorn. Ay, and in mine! 

Herdisa. Lo, there, the mighty chieftains and the 
thronging of the folk! . . . 

[8i] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



BjoRN. The flashing of great battle-axes and 
shields upon the walls! . . . 

Herdisa. Swords aloft, like deadly flames of 
war! . . . 

BjORN. Beakers afoam, with gladness of the 
mead! . . . 

Herdisa. There was a cr)' rang forth from the 
heart of man to man! . . . 

BjORN. And the joyous thunder of great voices 
lifted loud in praise! . . . 

Herdisa. Yea, and above them all, thou, Bjorn 
Asmundsson, standing foremost, the king of all those 
folk! Thou! Thou! Whom I worshipped! And 
straightway, as I watched thee, there slipped from 
off me all of maiden shame, and I stood forth, naked 
love, before thine eyes! What recked I of the 
folk ? What recked I that a maid must needs be 
spoken for, not speak Jicrseify unasked ! There 
wert thou, my king: I gloiying in thee! And I 
spake! 

Bjorn. The music of that speech hath never left 
mine ears! 

Herdisa. Nay, there thou liest! What of thy 
red woman yonder, overseas .? 

Bjorn. 1 have loved none other woman in the 
world, but only thee, in all my life! 

[82] 



TTTK WTNTKRFKAS'r 



Herdisa. Lie upon lie! Why didsr thou stand 
dumb when I spake my love before the folk ? 

I^JORN. 1 am no skald. My love for thee wrought 
dumbness. 

Herdisa. Yet lies! What love for me that day 
upon the shores of Vineland, when Thorkel left 
thee .? 

BjORN. 'Twas then I loved thee most of all! 

Herdisa. Lies! Lies! Lies! They thicken in 
the air about us! Wilt thou say next that thou wert 
Di'MH FOR LOVE that day .? 

BjoRN. Not so; I bade old Thorkel bear thee 
one poor word of comfort from me then, 

Herdisa. Ha! 'Tis of that word i would have 
THEE speak! 

HjORN. How shall I, and thou my brother's 
wife ^ 

Herdisa. I wed him not till Thorkel spake thy 
message! 

BjORN [dazed]. My message . . . 

Herdisa. Thy message! Ha! The echo had 
scarce died away from Thorkel's lips ere I pledged 
me to thy foster-brother! 

BjoRN. How hadst thou heart? 

Herdisa. As thou hadst heart to send thy mes- 
sage! 

[83] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



BjORN. Herdisa, art thou mad, or hath my mes- 
sage . . . 

[He pauses, with a sudden thought.] 

Say what was it. Hast thou remembered ? 

Herdisa. Ay. 

BjORN. Give it shape that I may know it once 
again. 

Herdisa. 'Twas brief; 'twas bitter. I have not 
forgotten. 'Twas but one word came back to me 
from Vinchind. 

BjORN. And that ? . . . 

Herdisa. Unasked! 

[There is a long silence. Then Bjorn 
speaks with an awful slowness.] 

Bjorn. So: that one word hath broken both our 
lives. 

Herdisa. It hath mended Valbrand's. 

Bjorn [pursuing his own thought]. 'Twas a little 
word to do so great a deed ! 

Herdisa. Valbrand hath holp it, somewhat. 

Bjorn [with bitter irony]. What, my foster-brother! 
Nay, then, 'tis yet too little, standing thus alone, with 
none but him to help it! It may not breed, alone, 
with none but him to help it! Methinks it clamors 
aloud for yet one other word to match it! 
[They have both risen.] 
[84] 



THE W I N T IC R F K A S T 



Mi:rf)isa. njorn Asiiuiiulssoii! 

BjoRN [thundciingj. Hearken to me! 

Herdisa [crossing to right of stage]. I will not 
hearken to thee! Wliat wilt thou dare to say ? 

BjORN. To tell thee first the lie within thy heart! 
[Vai.urand has entered unper- 
ceived.] 

What love hath thine heen for niy foster-brother? 
Hath he been Hjorn to thee? What is thy child — 
his bastard? 'Iwas 1 to whom tiiou pledgest thy- 
self! Thy love is mine — mine! Not his! That 
slave hath shamed thee! 

Hkrdisa [seeing Valbrand]. Valbrand! Dost 
thou hear ? 

BjORN [turning]. Ha! Is it thou.? 

Valhrand [hoarsely]. fFliat hath she heen told ? 

BjORN [going up above him]. Not all, yft, Val- 
brand; not— ^vhat is in thy mind! Ah! Well, I 
leave that thee to tell, an thou be man enow! I 
have but one word for thee, foster-brother: 'tis my 
message to thy soul, one word — unloved! 

Valbrand [gazing at his wife]. Herdisa! . . , 

BjORN [hissing the words <piickly]. What hast 
thou been to her this long while, eh .? Dost thou 
deem thyself fit mate for Herdisa.? Thou! Thou! 
When she had once known me! 

[85] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



By the blood of Baldur, thou hast been but her 
bedfellow all these years, and she thy wanton — not 
thy wife! The rest is mine! So! I go north o'er 
the bridge yonder, to Reekfirth, an thou wouldst 
hear me further! 

[He goes out.] 

[Valbrand's eyes have never left 
Herdisa, She stands right, facing 
the audience.] 
Herdisa. Take his with thee also. He hath left 
it. Deal — justly with him. 

[Valbrand picks up Bjorn*s sword, 
which she has pointed to on her 
left.] 
Valbrand. My gift to him. Where is mine ? 

[Herdisa points without looking. 
Valbrand gets the other sword 
from the ingle-seat and stands wait- 
ing] 
Herdisa [to herself]. Ay, there is none other end 

to hate. 

Valbrand. And which is he on whom thy hate 
hath lodged ? 

Herdisa. Go learn his name. 

Valbrand [looking at the swords]. God's blood! 
I will! 

[86] 



mntm^tmci 



THE WINTERFEAST 



[He goes out quickly. She goes 
slowly to the ingle and sits in the 
fire-glow there.] 
Herdisa. Bjorn shall pay for that bitter word! 

[The lights die down slowly, her face 
being limned with fire-glow to the 
last. Then there is an utter black- 
ness. The curtain does «o/ descend.] 



END OF THE SECOND ACT 



(i»^T.-J 



THK THIRD ACT 

Thp: Drink ok riii; Ravi:n 



THE THIRD ACT 

The scene remains unchanged. 

There has been a broken music between Acts II. and 
III. A prevailing feature of it consists in a regular tap, 
tap, tap of the drum. Toward the end the music hesitates 
more and more, and finally becomes a drum tapping only, 
thus: Tap, tap, tap! Tap, tap! Tap! 

[Upon this Hkrdisa speaks in the 
darkness.] 
Herdisa. Yea, it hath been a great darkness, all 
these years; but now 'tis lifted. No more burden! 
There shall be peace to thee at last, O my soul! 

[The lights slowly go up again and 
reveal her still sitting in the ingle.] 
So, Bjorn Asmundsson! Tis fully paid between 
my soul and thine, in the ending! Ay, sure, all will 
be done by this. Perchance, even now, thy spirit 
Yea, there is a haunting in the air about me! 
And out yonder . . . 

Ay, stiflF and stark, so they lie, the silent dead! 
[91] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



[She imagines the horror before her.] 

That will be a long sleeping for thee, Bjorn! 
That rest have I brought thee; 'tis a love-gift for 
thee. Mine. 

How found he the might to do it, my . . . thy 
slayer ^ Perchance some quick stealth, and then 
aloft, thus, with his hand, and so . . . 

[She gazes upon her own hand, 
fascinated, and wipes it with the 
other.] 

'Tis like fire! 

That I should watch thee, sleeping, thus! Bed- 
fellow was thy word. Well, I have made bed for 
thee, this once! How dost thou like thy bride, dead 
man ? Doth she daze thine eyes .? Thine . . . eyes . . . 

Ha! How thou wouldst redden at my speech 
and turn away thine eyes! I said so to thee long 
ago. . . . 

How strange and like twin stars they were! A 
king's might have looked so! . . . 

Oh! Oh! 

Why doth Valbrand tarry.? 'Tis over now! All 
ended now! Why comes he not, red-handed from 
the slaughter, to do his vaunting ^ A man might 
well brag of such! 

He hath done his deed at last — Valbrand! I 
[92] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



mocked him once for no warrior! He hath plucked 
out that sting forevermore! 

Why doth he not come ? Ha! [Apprehensively.] 
[The latch of the door is heard. 
SwANHiLD comes in. She looks 
about, surprised, then steals to the 
ingle and peeps round playfully.] 

Thou, Swanhild! . . . 

SwANHiLD [mimicking]. Nay, but Goblin Hob! 
What, not know thine own chick, motherkin goose ? 

Herdisa. I thought not to see thee, child. [Swan- 
hild sits at her knee]. I had forgotten thee. 

Swanhild. Ay, thou art a sorry mother to me! 

Herdisa. I will be kinder to thee henceforth! 

Swanhild [patting her cheek tenderly]. Ah, thou, 
thou! 

Herdisa. Nay, thy little hand; 'tis . . . 

Swanhild. What of my hand ? 

Herdisa [gazing curiously]. 'Tis like thy father's! 

Swanhild. They say I feature him. 

I could not find him, mother, though, forsooth, I 
cried him a many times aloud in the night there. 

Herdisa. He hath been in again. He followed 
after — him that came to-night. 

Swanhild. Ay, where is our friend .? I was about 
to ask of him. 

[93] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa [lost in her own thought]. Who ? 

SwANHiLD [surprised]. Bjorn. 

Herdisa [unguardedly]. He lies . . . [Recover- 
ing.] He lies not in our house to-night. He hath 
left us. Thy father hath holp him a little on the 
road he goes by. 

SwANHiLD. I am sorry. Most kind he was to 
me. How chanced it that he left us ? 

Herdisa. There was a word came for him, and 
he went forth. 

Swanhild. At whose summoning .? 

Herdisa. Why, 'twas of none in this house. 

Swanhild. What! Ufeig's ? . . . 

Herdisa. Nay, a greater than his, though, sooth, 
the priest hath much power o'er our house to-night, 
meseems! 

Swanhild. Pf ! I heed him no longer. My grand- 
sire hath assured me. Which way went my father 
and his foster-brother .? 

Herdisa. Up north, o'er the bridge, to Reekfirth. 

Swanhild. Ay, the way he came. 'Tis an evil 
night for travelling. Left, beyond the bridge there, 
is but ice and desolation, an they miss the straight 
path. 

Herdisa [suspiciously]. Didst thou go that way 
to seek thy father ? 

[94] 



THE WINTERFEAST 

SwANHiLD. Nay, by the foreshore I. 'Tis all thick 
mist and darkness beyond the bridge. 

Herdisa [her eyas dilating]. Ay. 

SwANHiLD. How soon ere Bjorn come back 
again ? 

Herdisa. Bjorn come back! How should Bjorn 
come back ? . . , unless thy father, yonder . . . 

[The new thought deepens more and 
more.] 

SwANHiLD, How strange thou art! Thou saidst 
erewhile my father did but help him a little on the 
road. 

Herdisa. 'Twas that I looked for. He should be 
back by now. Why doth he not come ? 

SwANHiLD. Mayhap the mist hath stayed him. 

Herdisa. Not thy father! What hath the mist 
to do to stay thy father ? 

Swanhild. Pray God it stay them both, and bring 
Bjorn back again — and soon! 

Herdisa. Peace, child! If thou wouldst pray, pray 
for thy father, that he come. 

Swanhild. Yea, and for Bjorn, too! 

Herdisa. For thy father, I say! Ha! Who was 
that t 

[They have both risen. Swanhild 
goes over to the guest seat and faces 
y [95] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



door, Thorkel enters, sword in 
hand,] 
SwANHiLD. 'Tis my grandsire come back from 
Ufeig's. 

[Thorkel advances grimly to the 
middle.] 
Herdisa, Well ,? . . . 

Thorkel [to Swanhild], Thou art free from 
Helgi, child, henceforward. He hath made peace 
with me. 

Herdisa. More peace! How.? 

Thorkel. He mocked too far. I slew him. 

[Swanhh.d shudders, and crosses 
herself involuntarily. Thorkel 
watches her gravely for a moment, 
then hands her his sword, etc.] 
Lay it by, Swanhild. It needs rest. 

[Swanhh-d puts it back, by the 
high seat,] 
Where is Valbrand .? 

Swanhild. He hath seen Bjorn on his road. 
Bjorn hath left us. 
Thorkel. Is that so, Herdisa .? 
Herdisa. 'Twas so purposed. 
Swanhild. How if Helgi's brethren meet my 
father on his way home! . . . 

[96] 



THE WINT ERF EAST 



Thorkki-. They will vex not. To-night they walk 
in hell with Ilelgi. 

SwANHiLD. And Ufeig! . . . What of Ufeig? 
Thorkkl. I have no longer power o'er him. He 
lives. Howbeit, he hath no son from this hour 
forth. 

[An agonized cry is heard far off. 
They all listen intently.] 
What was yon ? 

Herdisa. 'Twas naught! I hoard no cry! 
SwANHiLD. Sure; 'twas the sound of some soul in 
pain! 

Herdisa. Get thee to bed, child, quickly! Nay! 
Go! 

[SwANiiii.D goes up the steps, right. 
At the top she speaks.] 
SwANHlLD. Good-night, motherkin. 
Herdisa [absently]. Good-night. 

[\\\e cry is repeated nearer the 
house. SwANHiLD turns round a 
scared face. Her mother makes a 
gesture for her to go. She does so.] 
Thorkel. 'Tis the second time. What doth it 
mean .? 

Herdisa. I cannot say — for sure. 

[The cry again; quite near now.] 
[97] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel. 'Tis near the house; it comes hither. 
I will go see. 
Herdisa. Stay! Thou shalt know soon enough! 
[Thorkel, up right; Herdisa, left 
by fire. Some one stumbles heavily 
against the outer door, moaning pite- 
ously. A moment later Odd enters, 
bearing Bjorn's sword. Staggering 
to middle of stage, he casts down 
the sword between them. Herdisa 
follows the action with a look of 
horror.] 
Odd. Herdisa! Mistress! Oh! 

[A sickly pause. Herdisa points to 
sword.] 
Herdisa. Tell thou thy tale! 

Odd [gasping]. Up on the bridge yonder, o'er the 
river . . . 'Tis swollen in the gully down below . . . 
My master and the guest that came to-night! . . . 
Oh! . . . 

Thorkel. Ay, what of them ,? 
Odd. It will move thee nigh to death, mistress! 
Woe is me! 

Herdisa. In God's name, tell all plainly! 
Odd. I found him not — my master — when first I 
sped me forth to do old Thorkel's bidding, though 

[98] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



sooth, I hunted up and down the dale hallooing 
loudly. I gat no answer, save the angry growling of 
the sea, the thunder of old Kaldalon to the north 
there, and the distant sound of mighty Glamu, clash- 
ing and clamoring beyond the southern hills. 

Hither and thither, stumbling, at last I won unto 
the uplands; and ere I was well ware of it — for the 
mist 'gan thicken about me — I was now come nigh 
upon the bridge. It swayed and creaked upon the 
hempen bands. 

Scarce was I there when one rushed by me, raving 
as one distraught. I hailed him, but he answered 
not, yet, sooth, his weapon grazed me in the side here 
as he passed. And now was he come, maddening, 
upon the bridge. Then a thought smote clear upon 
me that there was none other than my master, and 
Valbrand sure it was. 

But by now was I mindful of another with him. 
He was ahead; he was already upon the bridge. 
Whiles I stood wondering who that other might be, 
for I could see naught plainly, my master hailed him 
by his name. He called him Bjorn. It was the 
guest that sojourned here to-night. 

Then . . . then . . . 

Thorkel. Say on! Say on! 

Odd. Ere I might move they were at each other's 
[99] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



throats! I heard no cause of quarrel — no word was 
spoke between them; only, I heard the bitter shriek 
of blade on blade, as there they dealt with death, 
amid the bickering mist! 

Thorkel. How! Were both slain? 

Odd. Nay . . . One remained. 

Herdisa. And he .f* . . . 

Odd. Whiles I stood gasping for fear, that one 
lifted high the corpse of him that he had slain and, 
with a cry, cast him into the torrent that foams be- 
neath the bridge. One moment I caught the shadow 
of his falling, against the white froth of the flood, 
and next he hurtled swiftly for the fiord. 

Herdisa. And he that remained .? . . . 

Odd. Then, first, he noted where I stood, and 
hailed my name. His voice . . . 

Herdisa [quickly]. Ay, what of his voice ? 

Odd. Never heard I sound like that before. 'Twas 
like a beast in pain. 

Herdisa. What said he .? 

Odd. He cast me his sword, and with it a word for 
thee: Go tell thy mistress he whom she hates is dead. 

Herdisa. Whom I hate! 

Odd. Ay. So saying, he fled like one bewitched; 
and ever as he fled I heard him crying out: My 
brother! I have slain him! Accursed! Accursed! 

[lOO] 




15JORN OR VAI.HRANl), WHICH 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa [tonelessly]. Not so. / killed him. 
[Odd whimpers.] 

[In an awful whisper,] How shall I answer for 
him .? 

Thorkel. Herdisa, stand not so. Let forth the 
bitter word of thy sorrow, weeping. It will ease thee 
a little. 

Herdisa. What word is left me .? Our house hath 
lost its tongue. Valbrand the skald is dead! 
[Odd whimpers.] 

Ay, a great skald men called him! That was long 
ago — ere he married me! He sang no more from 
that day forth, I killed him then. How shall I 
answer for him .? 

A great skald! I have heard men say that it was 
his word, when it mounted high upon the wings of 
song, that maddened them on to whatsoever deeds 
they did! The maidens lilt his love-runes to this 
very hour. For me he made them. I shall hear 
them till the day I die. 

[With a sudden gust o\ passionate repentance.] 
Ah! What be all ye mighty warriors beside such 
an one as he '^. And what should I be — I, his wife — 
that helped him nothing in his song ^ Fierce-heart- 
ed, a viking's daughter, I learned my lesson from 
such men as thou, old Thorkel. I would have made 

[102] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



him a thing of blood, hke thee; and lo, the music of 
his Hfe is fled forever! How shall I make answer? 
How shall I make amends ? 

[She continues with feverish agony.] A great skald 
men said! A great skald! That shall be said again 
of him, in Iceland! He shall have a great skald's 
burial! Yea, songs shall be cast up high above the 
piling of his barrow, and the minstrels shall make 
music about his bones! Ye men of blood count 
yourselves loftier than common folk; and when ye 
meet your bane, the death-song for you foams and 
surges like a huge sea-storm; but what cry in Ice- 
land shall compare with that which shall arise and 
echo down the days for Valbrand the skald, the 
mighty skald, whom I have murdered! 

[A low whimper from Odd.] 

Thou hast no answer. Hast thou naught to say ? 

Thorkel. Naught. I am dumb. 

Herdisa. Ay, thou art right. No help in words. 
'Tis the woman's heart, to speak her grief! 

Thorkel. I do as I may do. I know no other way. 

Herdisa. Truth; thy way is best. The hour calls 
for it! 

Thorkel. How .? What way is that .? 

Herdisa. Why, the warrior's. [To Odd.] Say! 
Which way fled he ? 

[103] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Odd. Up over the bridge, to northward. 

Herdisa. Turned he right or left .? 

Odd. Left, over the bridge, toward Dranga and 
the hills of ice. 

Herdisa. What! 'Tis desolation that way, and 
vast walls of pathless rock! 

Thorkel. How shall that profit thee aught .? 

Herdisa. How ? And thou a warrior! Lo, now, 
yonder thy deed awaits thee! 

Thorkel. What deed, Herdisa .? 

Herdisa. Why, the avenging for my husband's 
blood! 

Thorkel. What, avenging! Dost thou say aveng- 
ing ^. Against Bjorn .? 

Herdisa. What other man but him! 

Thorkel. I! 

Herdisa. Who else but thee! 

Thorkel. I will lift no further hand against him! 

Herdisa. Not though he hath slain thine own 
son! 

Thorkel. I take that blood upon myself! Bjorn 
shall not die by me! 

Herdisa. Thou wilt not .? 

Thorkel. There is that, unknown to thee, for- 
bids me slay him! 

Herdisa. How! Is it fear.? 
[104] 



1 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel. Ay, if thou wilt, call it fear. 
Herdisa. And thou art he who but this very 
night hath slaughtered all the sons of Ufeig! Seven 
lusty men against thee, and thou didst prevail o'er 
all! Nay, then, though thou slay me, I will speak! 
Niddering! 

Thorkel. Hold thy peace! 
Herdisa. Niddering, I say! 

Thorkel. Herdisa! [For a moment he regards 
her with anger; then, conquering himself, he contin- 
ues quietly.] Come what may, thou hast mine an- 
swer: I will not venture forth to-night for Dranga 
and the hills of ice. [He walks down right.] Ay, 
come what may. 

Herdisa [slowly]. Then must I seek some other 
aid. 

[A single knock at the door. Ufeig 
enters. He stands in the middle. 
From this point in the play there is 
another element added to his char- 
acter — a suppressed fire, hell smoul- 
dering in him.] 

[They are about to speak, but the 
priest interrupts them.] 
Ufeig. Yea, doth it start you to look on me 
again .? Lo, I come fresh from the havoc of my 

[105] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



sons, and I know my danger! But I bring you 
news! 

Thorkel. We know thy news. Thou wouldst 
tell of the slaying up on the bridge yonder. 

Ufeig. What, reached thee already! It hath sped 
fast. I deemed none so swift as I. 

Herdisa. And now thou art come to vaunt it 
over us. 

Ufeig. Doth it touch thee so closely that I may 
vaunt it over thee ^ 

Herdisa. It had need; but I am iron against 
thee. 

Ufeig. Thou wilt not be iron when thou hast 
heard more. 

Thorkel. Priest! I will not have thee . . . 

Ufeig [flashing dangerously upon him]. Nay, I 
am free of thee ! 

Herdisa. Let him void all! What I have lost, I 
have lost! 

Ufeig. Was, then, that dead man so dear to thee, 
Herdisa } 

Herdisa. Ay — seven sons to me, in one! 

Ufeig [another flash at Thorkel]. Yea, so much! 
Well, thou wilt ne'er hear his great voice again! 

[Thorkel's attention is vaguely 
stirred.] 

[io6] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. Ay, it made more music than thy seven 
oxen yonder! 

Ufeig. What! 5m^ to thee, did he ? He! Well, 
I know not of that! Mayhap he made song enow 
for thee, by stealth, long days ago, when his brother 
was not by. Men heard him not! 

Herdisa. He did all openly! His life was clear! 
Ufeig. Then was thine a lie! Thou wouldst ever 
cry the warrior in him, not the skald! 
Herdisa. Ay, mock me with that! 
Ufeig. Then what wilt thou say when thou 
shalt learn of one more lie, which even now thou 
shalt . . . 

Thorkel) (Priest! . . . 

Herdisa ) ^ (I will not hear thee longer! 

'Tis past bearing! Odd! Odd! To the foreshore 
yonder! Come! 

Ufeig. Nay, ere thou find his corpse, hear me . . . 
[Thorkel holds him back with iron 
hand.] 
Herdisa [going through the door]. Odd! Odd! 
Thorkel [sternly]. Follow thy mistress! Quickly! 
[Odd runs after Herdisa. When 
the door closes Thorkel loosens 
his grasp with a fling, which sends 
the priest spinning over to the fire- 
[107] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



side. Thorkel takes a step or two 
up stage, and turns, facing him.] 
Ufeig [swiftly, venomously]. Our peace is broken! 
Thou canst not stay me now! 

Thorkel [passionately]. 'Twas for their own 
mocking I slew thy sons! 
Ufeig. They cry for vengeance still! 
Thorkel. Are they not avenged enow already ^ 
Ufeig. How so, with all thy house in peace here, 
and thy lie untold ? 

Thorkel. Thou hast had blood for blood! 
Ufeig. How blood for blood .? 
Thorkel. I deem my one son Valbrand is suf- 
ficient recompense for all thy seven! 

Ufeig. How should there be recompense in f^al- 
hrand ? 

Thorkel. Why didst thou come here vaunting .'' 
Hath not Bjorn slain him .'' 
Ufeig. Valhrand slain! . . . 
Ay, ay, ay! Ay, ay! 

[Thorkel follows his curious change 
of manner with a dawning realiza- 
tion of what it may mean. After a 
moment he speaks suddenly.] 
Thorkel. What is in thy mind ? Didst thou see 
the fight yonder ? 

[io8] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. Every stroke. 

Thorkel. What didst thou see? 

Ufeig. AIL 

[There is a moment of expectation. 
Then he breaks out into a high- 
pitched, mirthless shriek of laughter.] 

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! My seven big sons be 
avenged! [He makes for the door.] 

Thorkel. Hold! Where w^ilt thou go? 

Ufeig. Not after Herdisa! Ha, ha, ha! I do 
no more, henceforward! I leave all to Fate! 

Thorkel. What dost thou mean ? 

Ufeig [flashing round at him]. Harkee! Herdisa 
yonder goes forth to find her corpse! Repentance 
works in strange ways. She bewails the loss of — 
V alb rand! 

Thorkel. And so she doth, most bitterly! 

Ufeig. YeR—Falbrand being dead! How if it 

HAD been otherwise ? 

Thorkel. [His face betokens his thought.] 
Ufeig [at the door]. Lo, now, thou hast slain my 
seed, and I am already old! Yet have I gendered 
me of somewhat among thy kin that shall live! I 
shall not die childless! 

[He goes out, still with the same 
mirthless laughter in his throat. 
[109] 



THE WINTKRFKAST 



Thorkel ponders for a moment. 
Then he goes to the door, right, and 
opens it.] 
Thorkel. Swanhild! Swanhild! Hither, quickly. 
SwANHiLD [distantly]. Is it thou, grandfather .'' 
Thorkel. Ay; come! [He crosses toward fire- 
place.] 

[Swanhild enters. Her hair is un- 
plaited. She has on her light under- 
dress only.] 
Swanhild [crossing to him]. I should have been 
asleep, but I sat dreaming yonder. What wouldst 
thou .? 

Thorkel. Tell mo, child, when Bjorn went forth 
to - night, bore he liis oivn sword with him, or 
no ? 

Swanhild. I was not here to see. 
Thorkel. Did I not bid thee stay until thy fa- 
ther . . . 

Swanhild. My mother bade me follow Odd, and 
find him. 

Thorkel. Did she so .? Then, mayhap, she hath 
not told thee . . . Thou dost not know . . . 

Swanhild [pointing across him]. See, grand- 
father, there is Bjorn's sword yonder — on the ground 
there. The haft hath no binding. 

[no] 



I'll I-: WINTKRFKAST 



ThorkI'I-. Ay, 'tis Hjorn's sword, ri^ht enow. 
Fetch mc my helm, Swanhild — ^nay, my hat. 

[She runs to the hi^h seat to do so.] 
Ay, Bjorn's sword ; but . . . 
SwANMiM). And thy weapon, grandfather? 
Thorkkl. Nay, 'tis a gentler errand this time — 
one of peace, indeed! 'Tis to bring back . . . 
Ay, all may yet he well if . . . 

[The sword fascinates him still. 
Swanhild gives him his hat.] 
Swanhild. Whither shall I tell my mother thou 
hast gone, an she ask me .^ 

Thorkkl. Say I go northy left by the bridge, for 
Dranga and the hills of ice. 

Swanhild. Grandfather! Not to-night! 
Thorkel. Do my bidding! Stay till she come. 

[lie goes out. Swanhild stands lost 

in thought for a moment; then she 

walks slowly to the ingle-scat and 

sits down.] 

Swanhild. 'Tis some secret in the air. They 

seek to keep it from me. First, father; then, mother; 

and now, my grandsirel A secret, and from mc. 

Yea, and Bjorn, too! He named a secret! We 
spake about my dream, and . . . 

Mayhap I will play the wizard for thee by-and- 
8 [hi] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



by; yea^ find thy lover for thee by-and-hy! Those 
were his words — Bjorn's words. Jesu, recompense 
him! 

If it should be so! 

[A horn sounds outside. She rises, 
half in fear, half in joy.] 
Heaven, but it hath a sweet sound! 

[After a short silence the latch of the 
door is lifted and Olaf enters. He 
is clean-shaven, and clad in byrnie 
and shining viking helm with eagle 
feathers. He pauses on the thresh- 
old. SwANHiLD stands alert, not 
daring to look. 
Olaf. Any one in this house, here t 
SwANHiLD [breathlessly]. Yea! 
Olaf. Is there harborage here for a wayfaring 
guest to-night ^. 

SwANHiLD. How comest thou } As a friend .? 
Olaf. There is naught but peace in my heart. 
[He comes a step farther dov^n.] What wilt thou } 
I am nigh death for lack of . . . 

[He sees her. Swanhild has turned 
toward him. They both stand dazed 
with wonder.] 
Swanhild [simply]. Welcome. I looked for thee. 

[112] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf. And I for thee. Where have we twain met 
before ? 

SwANHiLD. 'Twas in a dream. 

[They stand rapt, looking at each 
other.] 

[First Picture. As above. 
[Second Picture. She is leading 
him to the table. 

[Third Picture. They are seated 
at the supper-table, as at the begin- 
ning of the fourth act.] 



END OF THE THIRD ACT 



THE FOURTH ACT 

The Draining of the Lees 



THE FOURTH ACT 

The scene remains unchanged. 

SwANHiLD and Olaf are at the table. He sits in the 
guest seat, facing the audience; she sits opposite, in Val- 
brand's seat. They are in animated conversation. Olaf 
has just finished his supper. 

Olaf. Ay, ay, thy dream! And that was mar- 
vellous strange! 

SwANHiLD. More marvel still to find thy very self! 

Olaf. And most of all for me to light on thee! 
Lo, now, this wonder! Here have we spoken but a 
little while together, and yet mine heart hath dream- 
ed upon thee always! 

SwANHiLD. And mine on thee, meseems! To- 
night made clear what lingered there before. 

Olaf. 'Tis so with me! There was a haunting 
of thee ere ever I saw thy face. There hath been 
somewhat sweet of thee within me all my days. I 
never knew till now! 

[117] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. 'Tis Heaven whispering, to hear thee 
say so! 

Olaf. I have known thee other worlds than this. 

SwANHiLD. Two pixies, we have played at hide- 
and-find among the shadows! 

Olaf. And I have lost thee ever, but to find again, 
as now. 

SwANHiLD. Meseems I have danced goblin with 
thee down the ways of dreamland; hither and thither 
we have tripped together in the moonbeams, thou 
and I, to the music of waves washing! 

Olaf. In dreamland, sayst thou ? Lo, now, that 
is passed ; and here we be alive together, thou 
andH 

SwANHiLD. What wouldst thou do for me .? I 
would be a little house-thrall for thee, and joy 
therein. 

Olaf. I would be thy warrior, l\ 

SwANHiLD. Yea, and what do .? 

Olaf. Somewhat with life in't ! Some great deed ! 
Some mighty stroke that . . . 

Or shall it be death .? Ay, that way, too, would 
show . . . 

SwANHiLD. Nay, not so far for me . , . 

Olaf. Methinks there were no sweeter death in 
all the world than die for thee. 

[ii8] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. It fears me; yet I love to hear thee 
say so! 

Oh, I love thee, I love thee! . . . 

How dost thou deem of me ? Wilt be my lover ? 

Olaf. I will be more, an Fate so will! 

SwANHiLD. How may that be ? Love is all there 
may be! There never may be more! 

Olaf. Nay, but to have thee for my very mate! . . . 
[SwANHiLD starts to her feet.] 

SwANHiLD. Dost thou mean . . . What! Thy 
wife ? 

Olaf. Ah, little maid! I have wronged thee with 
my rough speech! 

SwANHiLD. Mayhap thou deemst me older than 
I am; I look old for my years . . . 

Olaf. Forgive me, forgive me. 

SwANHiLD. I never blamed thee. 

Olaf. Look into mine eyes! Little maid! Let 
me know myself forgiven! Look! Look! . . . 

Ah! Thy soul again! 

[She leans over the table toward him.] 

Swanhild. I can see myself in thine eyes. What 
canst thou see in mine ? 

Olaf. I see sweet lilies growing in a mead apart! 

Swanhild. What be they ? Lilies . . . 

Olaf. Flowers like thee. 
[119] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. I know none such in Icefirth. They 
grow not hereabout. 

Olaf. There hath no need. I have plucked them 
idly, many a time, in the land I come from. I should 
have worshipped them more tenderly. 

SwANHiLD. 'Tis a fair land hath grown thee. 
Tell me thereof. 

Olaf. 'Tis far off, over the sea. Much have I 
loved my land, and counted it the only land for me. 
Now have I found another! 

SwANHiLD. Yea — Iceland! 

Olaf. Iceland hath shown it me. 

SwANHiLD. Tell me one thing. What is thy 
name .? 

Olaf. Have I not told thee .? My name is Olaf. 

SwANHiLD [echoing]. Olaf! Olaf! It sounds 
upon the lips like a sigh. Olaf! Wouldst thou like 
to know my name ^ They call me Swanhild. 

Olaf. 'Tis like the lapping of soft waves upon a 
strand of gold ! 

Swanhild. Tell me, dost thou sing songs .? Art 
thou a skald ^ 

Olaf. What! A skald! Nay, I am a warrior . . . 
Why! Hast thou any Hking for skalds ? 

Swanhild. They have ever seemed most wonder- 
ful to me! 

[120] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf [suddenly converted]. Mayhap I be a. little 
bent that way. 

SwANHiLD. Henceforward I shall love the war- 
rior best! Sure; 'tis a kind of skald! 

Olaf. I will be both for thee! Harkee! I know 
two rimes! 

SWANHILD. Dost thou ? Dost thoU ? 

Olaf. Ay. One is for warts upon the hand, and 
t'other for the evil eye! I learned them when I was 
a boy. 

SwANHiLD. Nay, but out of thine own heart, Olaf! 
Canst thou not sing songs out of thine own heart ? 

Olaf. I can try! 

SWANHILD. Do! Do! 

Olaf. How might it be an I sang a song of war — 
something stirring and manful, with great battles in't ^ 

SwANHiLD. Yea, and of dwarfs and of giants, and 
great drakes, fiery-eyed, that come out upon thee, 
silent, in the darkness! Ugh! 

Olaf. Ooh! 

Canst thou sing songs out of thine own heart .? 

SwANHiLD. I can a little; but I wait thine, Olaf. 

Olaf. Oh! I will anon. 'Tis rusty with me 
now. 

SwANHiLD. Dost thou kuow what I do think ? 

Olaf. Nay; what ^ 

[121] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. I think thou couldst not an thou 
tried ! 

Olaf. What! Not sing songs? Could not? 

SwANHiLD [solemnly]. Could not! 

Olaf. I can do more than sing! I can fight! 

SwANHiLD [teasing]. Yea, but not sing songs! 

Olaf. I can kill a man — two men — three! 

SwANHiLD [seriously]. Oh! Hast thou ever? 

Olaf. Nay; but I will! 

As for that other, thou shouldst hear my father! 
He hath the voice for singing, I promise thee! 

SwANHiLD. What! Is he a skald? 

Olaf. Not so; a warrior he — a mighty one! Yet 
he hath sung me many songs, one time and another, 
out in Vineland yonder. 

SwANHiLD. In Vineland! What — thy father! 
Tell me, is he yet living ? 

Olaf. I deem so; and like to be this many a long 
year — a hearty man, my father! He parted from 
me but this very night, out in the mist there. 

SwANHiLD. That was strange! To-night! Most 
strange! What parted you? 

Olaf. Why, now thou mindest me, 'twas a sword 
brought that about. Mine hanger-buckle came un- 
done, and ere I was well ware, down fell sword and 
all a-clattering among the lava-crags. Whiles I 

[122] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



lagged behind, to look for it, there rose a blast of 
storm and hid my father from me. Long time I 
cried his name, but gat no answer, until the gale had 
spent itself beyond the distant hills; then at last, 
far off, deep down below me in the gully, I heard his 
voice: / have lost thee, boy. Where art thou ? Hast 
thou found thy sword ? I told him that I sought it 
still. Why, then, cried he, / will press forward. Per- 
chance 'twere better I went before thee. Follow thou 
on when thou hast found the weapon. There is but 
one path, and that a sure one. Thou canst not miss 
It. Get thee forward, father, I shouted; we shall 
meet some time ere the night be out, I guess, or I 
am not thy son. 'Tis not the first time that I found 
my way alone/ 

Scarce had the laughter of his voice replying, faded 
away, when a mist came down and covered up my 
path! I have wandered without my sword, without 
my father, ever since! 

SwANHiLD. That was ill-luck for thee to lose thy 
sword ! 

Olaf. Nay, I reck not of that; 'twas a boy*s 
weapon at best. I always told my father so. 

SwANHiLD. How if thy father had found way 
hither in place of thee ? 

Olaf. What! And sat in the guest seat set for me! 
[123] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. Ay, and eaten up thy griddle-cakes I 

Olaf. And won first gaze on thee! 

SwANHiLD. H'm! And had spoke of love, may- 
hap, before I ever sav^ thee! 

Olaf [laughing]. Nay, I take thy trick! Thou 
canst not egg me on against my father! We be like 
two brothers together, he and I . . . 

Yea, he must find me another sword in place of 
that I lost! A man's — Hke his! 

SwANHiLD. Tell me; is he featured at all like 
thee ? 

Olaf. Folk say so; but older, and with a beard. 

Ay, it had been strange an I had found him here 
before me! 

SwANHiLD. That might well have been; and, in- 
deed . . . 

Olaf. In sooth, nay. The house he was bound 
for lies a ten leagues farther on from here. 

SwANHiLD. Oh! What house is that .f* 

Olaf. W^hy, the house of one called Valbrand. 

SwANHiLD. What! Valbrand Thorkelsson .? 

Olaf. The very same. He is my father's foster- 
brother. They were his songs my father sang to 
me in Vineland. Dost thou know the man ? 

[Swanhild smothers a little laugh.] 

Say, dost thou ? 

[124] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. 'M! 'M! And Herdisa, his wife. 

Olaf. Ay, he named Herdisa once. 

SwANHiLD [after a moment]. Spake he of any 
others in that house ? 

Olaf. There was old Thorkel and . . . Ay, 
and . . . 

SwANHiLD. Why dost thou redden so, and glance 
aside .'' 

Olaf [confused]. Nay, I knew not that I red- 
dened. 

SwANHiLD [teasing]. Nay, nay, nay! . . . 

Olaf. Why, 'twas but for some folly that my 
father spake to me. He — he spake of a daughter . . . 

Swanhild. I see no such folly in that! 

Olaf. 'Twas what my father said that made the 
folly. 

Swanhild. What did he say ? Tell me, tell me .? 

Olaf. He — he deemed perchance that she and I 
— that she and I — might make a match of it! 

[They both laugh uncontrollably.] 

Swanhild. Nay, but why do I laugh .? Mayhap, 
when thou shalt know her, she will please thee better 
than I\ 

Olaf. Thou hast made me hate her by saying so! 

Swanhild. Thou wilt love her then — at least as 
well as now thou lovest me! 

[125] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf [emphatically]. That will I never do! 

SwANHiLD. She is full as fair to look upon as I, 
yet, in good sooth, I myself count little of her! 

Olaf. I am one with thee in that! 

SwANHiLD [in his tone]. That wilt thou never be! 

Olaf. Nay; but Swanhild — Swanhild . . . 

SwANHiLD [suddenly]. Say! Did thy father name 
her to thee .? 

Olaf. Nay, he knew not himself. He had but 
heard of her from another. What is she called ^. 

Swanhild. Lo, now, how thou lingerest yet upon 
her in thy thoughts! 

Olaf. Well, well, forget her! She is naught to 
me — will never be aught! Look thou! Here is the 
ring my father bade me give her, an I won her love. 
It never left his arm for all the years I knew him till 
two days ago. 'Tis dear to me for that. How if I 
troth thee with it now .? Wilt thou then believe 
me ? 

[They stand facing each other across 
the table.] 

Swanhild [gravely]. And if I take it . . . 

Olaf. Thereby shalt thou learn my true love for 
thyself, and how, moreover, Valbrand's maid shall 
ne'er be aught to me. 

[Swanhild puts the ring on her arm.] 
[126] 




FOR THY LOVE S SAKE ONLY 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. Then — for thy love's sake only. 
[She stands rapt for a moment.] 

Lord! How we prattle! Who knows what great 
things be in store for us! I know of one for thee, 
anyway ! 

Olaf. What may that be ? 

SwANHiLD. Why, when thou knowest Valbrand's 
daughter! 

Olaf. Death take her! I would she were a thou- 
sand leagues away, not ten! 

SwANHiLD. That minds me. Who told thee of 
Valbrand's house — that it was so far away ? 

Olaf. It was a kind old man I met out yonder, 
just ere I blew my horn. He bade me hither for the 
night instead. 

SwANHiLD. I bless him for that! How looked he .? 

Olaf. I could not see his face; a hood half hid 
him. He had on a gown with beads upon it. 

SwANHiLD [startled]. How! That would be the 
priest! 

Olaf. Ay, very like. But come, the meal is over. 
Show me the spot where first I came upon thee in thy 
dream. In thy bower, thou saidst. Is it yon .? 
[He turns, facing the bower.] 

SwANHiLD [joining him, she rests her hand upon 
his shoulder; their backs are to the audience]. Yea, 

9 [127] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



wouldst thou like to see it ? 'Tis in there I am mostly 
wont to spend my days when the spring is come. 

Olaf. I would fain see the place that brought us 
twain such joy. 

SwANHiLD. Why, then, thou shalt. See! 

[She goes to right of the bower and 
draws one curtain aside.] 
I shall always look upon my bower with different 
eyes, after this night. See! 'Tis dark; but go thou 
in. I will follow. 

[Olaf makes to enter, but suddenly 
reels back, his hand to his brow.] 
Olaf. Ah! 'Tis magic! I saw . . . 
SwANHiLD. Friend! Olaf! Olaf! What didst 
thou see ? . . . 

Olaf. Why, methought mine own shape lying 
there . . . 

SwANHiLD. Olaf! Thou art sick . . . 
Olaf. Ay, that will be it . . . Stunned a little . . . 
Ah! 'Twas like death for the moment. ... I will 
rest me a little, and then . . . 

Swanhild. Ay, do. [She helps him across to the 
ingle.] 'Tis the long wandering without food and 
rest hath wearied thee. So, lie thou there. 

[He lies down on the ingle-seat, at full 
length, his head toward her, right.] 
[128] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ah! Thy color comes again! So! But thou 
didst affright me! Art more comforted ? 

Olaf. Ay, fret not. There is rest here, with thee, 
and in thy house. 

SwANHiLD. Sleep a little. It will ease thee, 

Olaf. What — now ? 

SwANHiLD. Yea, thou art weary. I will watch 
over till thou wake. 

Olaf. Why, 'tis fretful of me; but so I will. 

[He rests his face upon his arm, but 
it is still to be seen.] 

SwANHiLD. Shall I sing thee to thy sleep ? 

Olaf. Yea, Swanhild, do. [The voice falters with 
sleep already.] 

Swanhild. Wait thou one . . . 

[She brings over her seat and the harp. 
She sits just below ingle, to right of it.] 

Olaf. Let it be one of thine — own — little songs. 
Out of — thine — own — heart. 

Swanhild [song]. 

The brunt of the day, and the burden, 
Have wandered away in the west; 
Then cast off the coil 
Of thy troublesome toil, 
And thy guerdon 
Be rest. 

[129] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf [drowsily]. And so it is — rest. 
SwANHiLD [song]. 

The shadow of death is a slumber . . . 

Olaf. Nay — sing — Swanhild . . . 
SwANHiLD [song]. 

The shadow of death is a slumber 
That waiteth the morn of the blest; 
Then cast off the strife, 
And the ills of thy life, 
That encumber 
Thy rest. 

[Olaf's face drops down over his 
arm, and is htdden.li 
Olaf! Olaf! [A pause.] Asleep! 
[Herdisa comes in.] 
Herdisa. The waves hold Winterfeast to - night. 
They yield up naught. They glut them still with 
the corpses of dead men. 

Swanhild. Ssh! Ssh! Not a word, mother! 

[She joins her up stage, above the 
ingle.] 
Herdisa. Well, it will wait. By-and-by for that! 
Swanhild. What ails thee, mother .? Why dost 
thou look about I 

[ 130] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. 'Tis a man I look for — a man in all this 
world ! 

SwANHiLD. SshI Not so loud! He will hear thee! 

Herdisa. He! Who? Who? 

SwANHiLD. My warrior! 

Herdisa. A warrior! What dost thou mean, 
child ? 

SwANHiLD. Ssh! He is yonder, asleep. 

Herdisa. What! BjornI . . . 

SwANHiLD. Nay, not Bjorn himself, but . . . Nay, 
I can keep secrets, too. He is marvellous like him! 

Herdisa. How! Mighty and terrible, with war- 
fare in his throat ? 

SwANHiLD. I doubt it not, an matters lay that 
way. 

Herdisa. Ha! He hath come from God! 

SwANHiLD. So deemed I. 

Herdisa. A warrior, sayst thou. How might we 
bind him to us, fast ? 

Swanhild. He would taste the bitter death for 
me, he said. 

Herdisa. A good word. Asleep, thou sayst ? 

Swanhild. Ay. 

Herdisa. I will go look on him. [Pauses.] Yet 
sooth, it fears me. 

Swanhild. How so ? 

[131] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. Lest he be not man enow. 

SwANHiLD. Look for thyself. 

Herdisa [after a moment's hesitation]. I will. 
[She goes forward and looks at Olaf.] His face is 
hidden. 

SwANHiLD. 'Tis like God's sunlight! 

Herdisa. What! Soft-shining, like — like a girl's ? 

SwANHiLD. Bright-eager, as at mid-day. 

Herdisa, I will move him. [Makes as to do so.] 

SwANHiLD. Nay, wake him not. Let him rest 
awhile. He hath wandered all day shelterless and 
without food. He hath need of rest. It will refresh 
him. 

Herdisa. Mayhap thou art right. He will need 
strength. 

SwANHiLD. He nigh-on fainted awhile since. 

Herdisa. How! A weakling! . . . 

SwANHiLD. Nay, but weary with the day's wear- 
ing- 

Herdisa. He is limbed lithely. His hand hath a 

grip in it by seeming. How long hath he lain thus ^ 
SwANHiLD. But a little. I sang him to his sleep. 
Herdisa. Against my coming. Ay, thou didst 

well. 

SwANHiLD. Sleep will better him. Thou shalt see 

him mighty when he wakes. 

[132] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. So would I — strong, with fire in his 
eyes, and the echo of great thunders in his voice! 

SwANHiLD. Thou hast ever loved the w^arrior, 
mother! 

Herdisa. Peace, my child! Thy father v\^as a 
skald! 

SwANHiLD. Until thou madest him warrior. I 
know thy reasons now, mother . . , 

Herdisa. How! My reasons . . . 

SwANHiLD. 'Tis blithe in woman's heart to look 
on such a man! 

Herdisa. It waxes late. I shall have a tale to tell 
thee on the morrow. 

SwANHiLD. I shall have one for thee. 

Herdisa, Till then I would have thy peace un- 
broken. Come, get thee to bed, child. I will sit 
and watch. 

SwANHiLD. Wilt thou not let me sit with thee a 
bit? 

Herdisa. Nay, press me not; 'tis late. Come, 
little ewe-lamb! 

SwANHiLD. Since needs be. 

[They embrace each other and kiss.] 

Herdisa. Be my little maid, and sleep. 

SwANHiLD. To-night hath been the happiest Win- 
terfeast of all my life! Good-night, motherkin. 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa, Good-night. 

SwANHiLD [half-way across stage]. Oh! My 
grandsire bade me give a message to thee . . . 

Herdisa. It will wait. I look for naught from 
thy grandsire. Good-night, my child. 

[SwANHiLD slowly mounts the steps. 
At the top she pauses for a last 
word.] 
Swanhild. Give him a long rest, mother! 
Herdisa. I will. I will. 

[Swanhild goes out. Herdisa re- 
mains standing a minute, lost in 
deep thought. Then she goes to 
sit down on Swanhild's stool, but 
her attention being arrested by the 
sword, which lies to left of her, she 
picks it up. She sits.] 
Ay, with his own sword! 'Tis meet! 'Tis meet! 
'Tis meet! 

[She lays it across her knees, the 

handle toward the sleeping man.] 

Still asleep. Yea, he should be a warrior by the 

shape of him. And yet I fear when I shall see his 

face, lest I find the niddering there. Ay, and for 

more cause, yet . . . 

How the moments creep — slow — slow — like a thief! 
[134] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Still sound. Well, 'tis strength in him, I need. 
That other hath strength enow . . . How like a great 
mast he towered above the warriors, here in this hall, 
that day I . . . 

[Checking herself, she looks at the sword-edge 
curiously.] Valbrand's! Let me not forget it! 'Tis 
my husband's blood! 

Olaf [drowsily]. Swanhlld! 

Herdisa [stiflFening, looking before her]. Ha! 

Olaf [half waking]. Thy little song again! [He 
lifts up his head.] What, Swanhild ... Eh! Who 
art thou ? [He sits up.] 

[Throughout the following scene 
Herdisa sits immovable, gazing be- 
fore her, not daring to look at him, 
until the point indicated later on.] 

Herdisa. I am the mother of that maid with 
whom thou didst speak erewhile. 

Olaf. Her mother! Why, then, greetings to 
thee! 

Herdisa [in a quiet, strained voice]. Come thou 
blest, and welcome. 

Olaf [a little embarrassed by her manner]. Ay, 
ay; that is kind of thee. Then . . . 

Hath she spoken to thee yet ? 

Herdisa. She hath told all it profits me to know. 
[135] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf. And doth it like thee ? Hast thou aught to 
say against it ? 

Herdisa. It Hkes me. She said thou wert a war- 
rior. 

Olaf [eagerly]. And so I am! 

Herdisa. Thou hast the bitter voice of such! 

Olaf. What, hast thou no love of warriors .? 

Herdisa. My husband was a skald. 

Olaf [taken aback]. So! Ay, 'twill be from him, 
mayhap, thy little maid . . . 

It is a gentle maid! 

Herdisa. She hath been all my life! She will be 
more hereafter. 

Olaf [suddenly possessed by a new thought]. 
Mayhap the word rests not with thee. Perchance 
her father . . . Ay, he may not . . . 

Herdisa [quietly]. She hath no father. 

Olaf. Hath no father ? 

Herdisa. He is dead. 

Olaf. Sure, she named her father. She waited 
for him here. 

Herdisa. He is dead. 

Olaf. How may that be } When came he by his 
death ? 

Herdisa. Slain — scarce an hour ago. 

Olaf. Slain! 

[136] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa [after a moment]. Ay. 

The sword of his slaying Hes across my knee. It 
is yet wet with his blood. 

Olaf. But who hath done this deed ^ What enemy 
hath . . . 

Herdisa. No enemy, but one most near to him. 

Olaf. What! . . . Thou! 

Herdisa [her eyes dilate]. 

Olaf [under his breath]. Thou! 

Herdisa [mastering herself]. I have lifted no hand 
against him. 

Olaf. Forgive me; but thy mood — so strange — so 
calm . . . 

Herdisa. 'Tis no light matter for a woman to lose 
her mate! 

Olaf. Sure, sure. Nor for a child its father! 
How will Swanhild take this ? . . . 

Herdisa. There is rest for her to-night. On the 
morrow she must needs be told. Ay, and more yet, 
maybe! 

Olaf. I take thee; 'tis the blood - atonement 
thou wouldst name. But the murderer I Where 
is he ? 

Herdisa [like a whirlwind]. Yonder, left, over the 
bridge, up in the pathless ice-hills to the north, he 
hides — snared like a wolf in the trap ! 

['37] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf. And which of thy kinsmen hast thou 
speeded thither to hew him to pieces ? 

Herdisa. None! None! I have none left for 
such a deed! 

Olaf. What friend ? What aid of a man, then, 
hast thou left about thee, at thy need ? 

Herdisa. None! My child and I stand helpless 
and alone in all this world! 

Olaf. What kind of a man is he — a warrior .? 

Herdisa. None greater! He stands above all 
other, like a mountain, topping the feeble hillocks! 

Olaf. Mayhap, then, thou wilt deem 'tis no boys 
work to deal with such a man as he ^. 

Herdisa. I trow not! 

Olaf. And thy little maid, she will think as 
thou ? 

Herdisa, Doubt it not. 

Olaf. Then lo, / stand here, thy friend and helper! 
I will take up the blood-hate for thee against that 
wolf of murder! 

Herdisa. What! Thou wilt.? 

Olaf. Yea! I might not sing songs out of mine 
own heart — I am no skald — but I will prove myself 
a warrior in this deed! 

Herdisa. 'Tis the right voice; and yet, indeed, I 
fear me still . . . 

[138] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Olaf. There is no cause ! Look upon me, 
friend ! Why wilt thou ever turn thine eyes 
away ? 

Herdisa. I fear to look upon the man that shall 
slay— HIM. 

Olaf. Is he so terrible ? I long to grope with him. 
How shall I cast thy fears ? What proof to give thee 
ere the deed be done ? 

Herdisa. Why, some oath might bind thee more 
— some mighty oath. It might bind both of us! 

Olaf. That oath will I give thee. 

Herdisa. How high canst thou swear ? Knowest 
thou the White Christ .? 

Olaf. Nay, I wot not of him. Is he not thy god, 
here ? 

Herdisa. Folk say they hold by Him. 

Olaf. Nay, I have naught in him. 

Herdisa. How, then, wilt thou swear ? 

Olaf. When I am with my father I take his 
sword, so, and kiss it, giving my plain word. 

Herdisa. Thou wilt hold to that ? 

Olaf. Sure, a man may not gainsay his word, 
once given! 

Herdisa. Then — here is a sword — swear! 

[She rises and hands him the sword 
without looking at him. Olaf holds 
[139] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



the sword in front of him, kneehng 
on one knee.] 
Olaf. Why, then, thus: 

To help thee, friend, in thy most hitter need; to 
satisfy the blood-hate in thine heart; wrong for wrong; 
life for life — This is my plain word for thee. 
[Kisses sword.] 
Herdisa [passionately]. Now! Forth to thy deed! 
[Olaf does not move; he is gazing, 
dumfounded, upon the sword.] 
Why dost thou halt ^. What seest thou there ? 
Art thou afeard ^. 

Olaf. Yea. Whose sword is this .? 
Herdisa. Why, his — the murderer's! Yon bloody 
weapon wrought our woe — made fatherless my child 
— slew, ruthless, Valbrand, my husband! 
Olaf. What! . . . Valbrand! . . . 
Herdisa. Ay, that was my husband's name. 
Olaf. And that other . . . that other .? . . . 
Herdisa. He awaits thee yonder! 
Olaf. His name! His name! 
Herdisa. Thou wilt know him by his voice. 'Tis 
a mighty voice, like thine! 
Olaf. His name! 
Herdisa. Bjorn Asmundsson! 
Olaf [dropping the sword]. Ah! I cannot do it! 
[ 140 ] 




TO HELP THEE, FRIEND, IN THY MOST BITTER NEED 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herjdisa. What, afeard ? Thou hast sworn an 
oath! 

Olaf. It may not be! It may not be! 

Herdisa. Thine oath! Thine oath! 

Olaf. I take it back! 'Tis void! Void! 

Herdisa. I hold thee to it! ... Ha! .. . 

[Olaf lifts up his head and stands 
facing her. For the first time she 
sees him.] 

Who — ART — THOU ? 

Olaf [after a pause, brokenly]. Olaf Bjornsson, 
the son of him that slew thy mate. 

[There is a tense silence for about 

three heart-beats. Then Herdisa 

breaks it by an awful laugh.] 

Herdisa. Ha, ha, ha! His bastard! I thank 

Thee, God! I deemed Thee dead, up yonder! We 

lose time! Forth to thy deed! 

Olaf. Hearken to me . . . One word . . . 
Herdisa. Thy deed! 

Olaf. How shall I slay my father, whom I love ^ 
Herdisa. I have an oath against thee! 
Olaf. He would but kiss me whiles I did the 
deed! 
Herdisa. Take up thy sword! 
Olaf. Nay, by my soul, I will not! 
[ 141 ] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. Thine oath! 
Olaf. I cast it from me! 

Herdisa. In my hitter need, thou saidst! The 
need is come! 

Olaf. I spake in darkness! 

Herdisa. Lo, the blood-hate, here. Thou didst 
swear to satisfy! 

Olaf. By any other way — not this ! 
Herdisa. Wrong for wrong! Life for life! Those 
were thy words! 

[There is a pause. A terrible thought 
comes to Olaf.] 
Olaf [quietly]. Said — I — so .? 
Herdisa. It was thine oath! 

Olaf [putting forth blind hands]. Then — reach 
me forth — the sword. 

Herdisa [after a moment]. What! Wilt thou 
do it .? 

Olaf. I have sworn. 

[Herdisa picks up the sword and 
gives it to him fearfully. He takes 
it without looking at it.] 
Herdisa. His son indeed! So looked he those 
years gone by. Nay, turn thine eyes away. 
Olaf. I will trouble thee no more. 

[He makes for the door. Half-way 
[142] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



there he hesitates, and goes to bower 
instead.] 
Herdisa. The doors be barred beyond there. 
Yonder is thy way. 

Olaf. All doors be open to me henceforward! 
[On the steps of the bower he turns.] 
Name me kindly to thy little maid. 'Tis her 
bower! 

[He goes into the bower.] 
Herdisa. How said he .? . . . All doors he . . . All 
doors . . . Nay! Not that! Not that! Stranger! 
Stay him, God! . . . 

[There is heard one short groan, 
followed by the thud of a falling 
body. There is a long pause.] 
Life for life, he said. Nay, then, it is true — 
Thou art dead, up yonder! 

[The door-latch Hfts.] 
Some one at the door! 

[She runs to the bower, turning a 
fearful face toward the door when 
she is upon the steps.] 
Ay, and Swanhild, yonder, too! . . . 
Ssh! In! In! 

[She slips into the bower. At the 
same moment the door opens and 
[ 143 ] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



there stumbles in, haggard, with eyes 
bloodshot, unkempt, not Bjorn, but 
Valbrand. He staggers heavily to 
the opening leading into the room. 
There he leans wearily against the 
lintel.] 
Valbrand. Accursed! Accursed! 



END OF FOURTH ACT 



THE FIFTH ACT 



The Fragments 



THE FIFTH ACT 

The scene remains unchanged. 

As the curtain rises Valbrand is discovered leaning 
against the lintel, as at the end of the last act. After a 
silent moment or two he staggers to middle of room, hesi- 
tates, then moves to table. Lifting the mead-bottle, he is 
about to pour out mead into a cup, but, changing his mind, 
he puts down the bottle weariedly. Crossing to fireplace, 
he sits in the ingle-seat. 

Valbrand. Oh! My foster-brother! My foster- 
brother! 

[Enter Swanhild from door, right.] 
SwANHiLD. I cannot sleep. The shapes come 
thronging; and 'tis dark yonder. Mother! . . . 
What ! Father, is it thou .? 

[He gazes w^ith scared eyes upon her.] 
I am glad thou hast come back again. It hath 
been long w^aiting, for my mother, without thee. 
[She goes to kiss him.] 

[■47] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Yonder, child. Kiss not — me. 

SwANHiLD. Where be they gone ? Nay, 'tis some 
trick of thine to tease me! Where be they ? 

Valbrand. They! Who.? 

SwANHiLD. Why, my mother and ... Ah! Thou 
gamest with me! Mother hath devised this with 
thee! 

Valbrand. Thy mother! ... I have not seen thy 
mother. 

SwANHiLD. Why, 'twas but a Httle while since she 
was here — she and our new friend. Nay, I know 
thy mocking, for all thy fierce face! Father! 

Valbrand. Nay, farther off! There is that on 
my hand would soil thee! 

Swanhild. I care not for thy black hand! Come! 
*Tis past laughing-time! Did not my mother bid 
thee play this trick upon me ? 

Valbrand. I say I have not seen thy mother. 

Swanhild. Why, then, that is strange! Where 
be they, then ? 

Valbrand. Say! Hast thou heard nothing .? Did 
they not tell thee aught f 

Swanhild. 'Tis that I would ask thee. Did they 
not tell thee aught ? 

Valbrand. Hast thou no fear of me .? 

Swanhild. Fear thee! Why should I fear thee f 
[148] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thou art my father! And for thou art, I know thou 
wilt wish the happiness of thy little wench! . . . He 
hath all God's daylight for me! 

Valbrand. I see thou art yet in the dark; yet 
little can I read thy meaning. 

SwANHiLD. Nay, come now, where be they in 
hiding ? 

Valbrand. My child, I tell thee I know nothing 
of thy meaning. 

SwANHiLD. What! Not of our guest, this even- 
ing? 

Valbrand. Speak not of him! 

SwANHiLD. Nay, but I must! The shining in his 
eyes hath witched me ! 

Valbrand. Peace! Peace! I would not have 
Bjorn named within these doors again! 

Swanhild. Bjorn! I speak not of Bjorn, but 
of . . . 

Valbrand. Thou saidst our guests this evening . . . 

Swanhild. Yea, meaning him that came hither 
when Bjorn was gone. 

Valbrand. What — a second guest .? . . . 

Swanhild. Nay, then, I see thou hast no dream of 
what great thing hath happed in our house to-night! 

Valbrand. Not a shadow! What hath happed .? 

Swanhild. He lay here, upon the ingle, even half 
[149] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



an hour ago. My mother watched him while he 
slept. 

Valbrand. What, thy new guest ? 

SWANHILD. Ay. 

Valbrand. When I came in, the house was empty. 
Dead men might have lain therein, so quiet it was. 
What was he ^ 

SwANHiLD. My lover! ... Ah! I have told thee. 
I had meant to keep it till the morrow. Why dost 
thou look upon me so ? Thou wilt not gainsay our 
troth .? 

Valbrand. Nay, wed whom thou wilt, child. I 
will not meddle. There shall be no shipwreck for thee. 
[SwANHiLD sits at his feet, on foot- 
stool.] 

SwANHiLD [chuckling]. Mother hath no inkling of 
it yet! 

Valbrand. Ay, thou, at least, shalt be . . . Tell 
me, who is thy lover ? 

SwANHiLD. Nay, if I tell thee that, it will startle 
thee indeed! 

Valbrand. It will take much to move me now. 

SwANHiLD. How if I tell thee it was he of whom 
I dreamed in the bower yonder to-night ? 

Valbrand. In the bower.? Yea, I remember; 
thou wert speaking on't to — to him that left us . . . 

[150] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD [nodding gayly]. H'm! ToBjorn! Sure, 
we shall have him back again now — ere long! 

Valbrand [the idea dawning]. Yea, it comes 
back. . . . He said . . . Bjorn said . . . Ay, and 
that loved one he spake of, to whom he sang my 
songs in Vineland! , . . 

Child! Child! . . . 

SwANHiLD. Thou hast guessed it! Father! Fa- 
ther! . . . Wilt thou keep it secret ? 

Valbrand. In the name of God, speak it! 

SwANHiLD. Why, then, my lover, he that came . . . 
Not one word now until the morrow . . . 

Valbrand. Child! . . . 

SwANHiLD. He is Bjorn's own son! 

[She rattles on, not seeing her father's 
face of horror above her.] 

He hath no guess I am thy daughter! He hath 
no knowledge of the house he rests in! He deems 
we live ten leagues away from here! . . . Priest Ufeig 
lied to him, and sent him hither. I never knew such 
blessing lay in lies before! 

Valbrand. Thou hast plighted troth with — 
Bjorn's son! 

SwANHiLD. 'M! 'M! [Nodding gayly, she sHps 
from the footstool to her knees, and gazes into 
the fire.] 

[151] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Nay, then, God help thee! 
SwANHiLD. I pray He may. ... He hath, most 
lovingly . . . 

I sang him my little song ere he fell asleep! 

[There is a short silence.] 
How silent all is here. 'Tis like the hush of dawn 
that nestles just betwixt the last of winter and the 
first of spring! 

[A pause.] 
They cannot be far off! 

[She jumps to her feet and moves 
about the room.] 
Mother! Mother! Olaf! . . . Hide-and-find! Hal- 
loo! Halloo! Nay, I will wake you! 

[She goes to door, left, and peeps in.] 
[Softly.] Motherkin! . . . No answer. . . . Ah, the 
bower! . . . 

[As she approaches it Herdisa ap- 
pears.] 
Ah! Found! Found! . . . 

Herdisa. Back! Back! Back! 'Tis no place for 
thee! 

Sw^ANHiLD [eagerly]. Where is he .? . . . 
Herdisa. Nay, farther, farther! Yonder is de- 
spair! 



SwANHiLD. Mother! What is't? 
[152] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Herdisa. 'Tis Ragnarok! 'Tis the doom of all 
things come! 

SwANHiLD. Mother! Motherkin! What hath be- 
fallen ? 

Herdisa. Death hath befallen! 

SwANHiLD. What dost thou say? . . . Death! . . . 

Herdisa. He might have been mine own babe! 
Once, twice, thrice, in mine arms, I rocked him, so! 
Never knew I men were earth before! 'Tis cold, 
ice cold, that sleep! 

SwANHiLD [stunned]. It was death ... or I 
dream . . . 

Herdisa. Woe, woe, woe for hate and bitterness, 
and the cruel hunger for men's red blood! Woe for 
darkness of the soul and the clouded counsels of long- 
hidden lies! Woe for love — that sting of sorrow! 
Woe for the mighty harvest, the harvest of death, 
that hath swept pitiless o'er all the world ! 

SwANHiLD. That word again . . . 

Herdisa. I thought to save thee! I thought to 
spare thee till the morrow! 

Swanhild. Spare not! Speak! 

Herdisa. Would that I might lie to thee! But 
Fate is swift. The truth must out to-night. 

Swanhild. Motherkin! . . . 

Herdisa. How shall I strike thee first ? 
[153] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



SwANHiLD. Like Fate — swiftly . . . 

Herdisa. Then, first, know this: thy father , . . 

SwANHiLD. My father! What of my father! 

Herdisa. He is dead! 

SwANHiLD [with a great cry of gladness]. My fa- 
ther — dead! 

Herdisa. Yonder, upon the restless bosom of the 
fiord, he lies with death to-night! 

SwANHiLD. But, mother, thou art mad! 'Tis mad- 
ness of thee to call my father dead! 

Herdisa. Thou art mad, child! What troll hath 
taken thee .^ Why wilt thou stand smiling upon me, 
there ? 

SwANHiLD. Nay, if not mad, 'tis witchcraft! 'Tis 
some evil spell or dream! Sure, some huge lie hath 
crept from hell to snare thy soul! My father dead! . . . 

Herdisa [fiercely]. There is yet more . . . Hearken! 

Swan HI I, D. I seek no more! Ah, joy! Joy! This 
one lie will I strangle first! Lord! What fear when 
first thou didst whisper death! Methought . . . 

Hark now! 'Tis Winterfeast! I deemed this 
night, already, the joy of all my life was full! There 
is joy beyond; and that I give to thee, my mother! 
'Tis a feast gift for thee, motherkin! Lo, now, I 
GIVE thee back thy dead! Behold! 

[She points to the ingle-seat. Her- 
[154] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



DisA takes a step or two down stage, 
bringing her in front of the guest 
seat. At the same time Valbrand, 
who has been sitting horror-struck, 
rises, and, moving a httle down stage, 
turns facing Herdisa.] 
Valbrand. Herdisa . . . 

[There is a long pause. Herdisa 
stands spellbound, her hand upon 
her heart. From this point to the 
end she speaks with deadly quiet- 
ness — no emotion — and with a grad- 
ual diminuendo.] 
SwANHiLD [breathless with joy]. Now, give me 
back my lover! . . . 

Herdisa [still gazing on Valbrand]. Thou art 
mad. Thou hast no lover. 
SwANHiLD. Yea — Bjorn's son! 
Herdisa. Thou dost not know Bjorn's son. 
SwANHiLD. Not Olaf! I spake with him to-night! 
We pledged love together! Look! Here be the ring 
he gave me. 

[She takes it off her arm.] 
Herdisa [mechanically]. Ring . . . Ring . . . 

[Her eyes are still upon Valbrand.] 
Swanhild. Take it, mother. 
[155] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



[Herdisa takes it as in a dream. She 
looks at it without emotion. When 
she speaks she does so quite simply.] 
Herdisa. 'Tis Bjorn's. I gave it him. 

[The eyes travel back to Valbrand.] 
SwANHiLD. Now, tell me . . . Where is he .? 
Herdisa. Who ? 
SwANHiLD. Olaf Bjornsson. 
Herdisa, In the bower. 

SwANHiLD. Ah! . . . [She hesitates.] I will join 
him. [She still hesitates.] 

Herdisa [after a pause]. 'Tis Fate. 

[SwANHiLD goes into the bower. 
Herdisa stands like a stone.] 
Valbrand [making a slight movement toward 
her]. Herdisa . . . 

Herdisa [slightly receding; she is now in front of 
the guest seat]. Stand off! Stand off! Come not near! 
[He falls back a step.] 
What word from hell hast thou come back to utter ? 
Valbrand. I have done thy bidding. 
Herdisa, What did I bid thee ? 
Valbrand. To learn his name on whom thy hate 
was lodged. My hands be yet scarce dry of his 
blood. 

Herdisa. And his name ? 
[156] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Valbrand. Bjorn. 

[There is a pause.] 

Herdisa. Thou — hast — thy — payment. 

[A sickly little cry is heard from the 
bower.] 

Valbrand. What was yon ? 

[Herdisa's eyes take in the horror. 
She sinks into the guest seat.] 

'Twas like the cry of a little ewe-lamb new-come 
to slaughter. 

Herdisa. It is enough. 

[Slowly the head sinks down; the 
arms relax, the one over the arm 
of the chair, the other on the side 
of the table. The ring still remains 
loosely in one hand. She presents 
the picture of deep woe.] 

Valbrand [breathlessly]. Yonder, it was. 

[He goes into the bower. Enter 
Thorkel, followed by Ufeig.] 

Thorkel. Come thou in, thou prowling dog. This 
last word in thine ear, and I am free of thee forever. 

Ufeig. I shall be glad to hear it. 

Thorkel. Valbrand is alive; that much I know; 
and for the rest — there shall be set up a peace, indeed, 
in this house henceforward. 

[^57] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Ufeig. How ? By yet more lies ? 

Thorkel. Nay, by truth. I am resolved to tell 
Herdisa all. 

Ufeig. Good! She waits thee yonder [pointing]. 
[Valbrand is heard crying out 
with agony from the bower. A mo- 
ment later he appears, madden- 
ing-] 

Thorkel. Ha! My son! My son! . . . 

[Valbrand rushes past him, raving, 
toward the door.] 

Valbrand! Whither away? . . . 

Valbrand [turning]. To the fiord yonder! I go 
to wash me clean of blood ! 

Thorkel. Ay, as I thought . . . Bjorn's! . . . 

Valbrand. Nay, thine! Thine! Thine! 
[He rushes out, crying wildly.] 

My child! My child! 

Thorkel. What meant he ? Mine! How mine ? 
[Inclining toward the door.] Nay, then . . . 

Ufeig. Herdisa waits thee yonder. To thy tale. 

Thorkel. Yea, but not thou by the while! 

Ufeig. How! Shall not thy priest look on.? 

Thorkel. Thou art no priest of mine! 

Ufeig. Have I not proved myself thy priest this 
night .? 

[158] 



THE WINTERFEAST 



Thorkel. How so ? Yonder lies thy temple, over 
the hill. I am of Thor. 

Ufeig. Howbeit we have served in one temple 
together this night, Thorkel, and I have been thy 
priest! 

Thorkel. Get thee gone! From this time forth 
no more darken my doors! 
Ufeig. There hath no need. 

[He points to his withered arm. 
One might almost think it moves.] 
So! I leave thee. 

[He goes out slowly, the door closing 
noiselessly behind him.] 
Thorkel. Now, my girl, hearken! Mayhap it 
may break thy heart . . . Yet it may no longer be 
hidden from thee . . . Herdisa . . . Herdisa . . . 

[He goes to her side and gently Hfts 
up the bowed head. It drops help- 
lessly, pathetically, upon his breast. 
She is already dead. From her hand 
there drops Bjorn's ring. It rolls 
down the stage.] 
Herdisa . . . 

[159] 

END OF THE PLAY 



DEt K; 1908 



